Thicker than Red Water
by brwneyes1324
Summary: A murder in a rural state park brings the CBI out. They meet a woman Patrick Jane obviously knows well, and a little of the man he used to be is revealed. Rated T mostly for some minimal adult language. Reviews most welcome!
1. Unexpected Friends

**Authors Note: First of all, thank you to everyone who left reviews! I appreciate the feedback! And, while I may not answer you, I read each and every one. I am honored you all are enjoying my efforts :)**

**This is a story in progress, and I've already made some changes as the story has evolved and the timelines settle out. I will publish the final version when it finally gets done, and proof reading is being done on the fly by me so that will change too, as will corrections and clarifications. I had forgotten how much work this is, and how much fun :)**

**Traditional Disclaimer: This done for love of the show and characters! I make no money off this and own nothing but my own words.**

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**Chapter 1- Unexpected Friends**

Birdsong greeted CBI Agents Lisbon, Rigsby and Cho as they exited their dark SUV. CBI consultant Patrick Jane woke from his nap, and smiled slightly has he stretched as he opened his door. Although they would never admit it, his colleagues and friends found the relative quiet of this country road a little bit eerie. City living was never "quiet", and he saw them unconsciously missing the sounds of traffic and people. Rigsby's slightly too tense back, Cho looking a little too quickly at the cry of a bird and Lisbon's slightly wary alert gaze all gave testament to his eyes.

"Guess we're early," Rigsby said. "You sure that Sheriff said meet him here, boss?"

Lisbon indicated the national park sign by the dirt road running off the highway. "Sheriff Hollins said he'd meet us by this sign just past mile marker 209. Let's give it a minute."

Jane wandered slightly away and peered at an evergreen bush, plucking at some berry or acorn. Lisbon found herself watching him, his blond curls contrasting to the green of the plant, absently noting the V shape of his waist accented by his slightly rumpled vest. When he turned, his blue eyes caught and held hers as they always did, just an instant too long.

The sound of a car pulling up let her pull her eyes away. A beige car with police lights and "sheriff" in curved script along the side pulled up. A medium sized man with a fresh buzz cut and small beard to hide his double chin stepped out.

"Agent Lisbon?" he asked, looking first at the imposingly tall Rigsby, who promptly looked toward his boss. Patrick always marveled at her smooth handling of this all too common scenario. She was small and petite, but somehow in his mind she always grew, and he forgot others didn't automatically follow her lead.

"Sheriff Hollins, I presume?" Lisbon asked, putting out her hand and giving a good, solid and well practiced handshake, not too firm or too loose. Patrick saw the sheriff relax a bit as he felt it, accepting her authority. "These are Agents Rigsby and Cho, and Patrick Jane, consultant."

Jane smiled widely at the inevitable "Consultant?" question from the sheriff, and ignored it as he usually did, letting Lisbon take the lead. Eventually the sheriff –"Call me Frank"-indicated they should follow his car up the dirt road. A few miles up he pulled off onto a widened shoulder, obviously intended for park visitors. A couple of official-looking police cars and three more civilian-looking cars were already there, as was blue double-cab truck covered in dust with a ragged bumper sticker too faded to read anymore, attached to a small horse trailer. Two bored looking forensic techs stood chatting near a picnic table, and a group of young men were gathered around a uniformed officer giving statements.

Hollins adjusted his belt slightly as he led the CBI agents down a hiking trail. "Body found little after 8 am by those boys back there, coming back from an overnight camping trip. There was horse found nearby, figured at first it was riding accident. Not supposed to go horseback riding on this trail. There's some horse trails 5 miles up, but people do occasionally get over here anyway."

"So why call us?" Cho asked, stepping over the rocky brush.

"Because then we realized it wasn't just an accident. We are here," Hollins said, "It's a state park, and I… we just don't get that much of this out here. I mean, usually we get car thefts or an assault, maybe vandalism, but not this." He motioned off to the left, and turned away slightly.

Lying in the brush just off the trail, a man lay on his back. His sightless brown eyes staring into the sky, mouth slightly agape, neck at too much of an odd angle. A slight trace of blood trailed from his lips, his limbs contorted slightly in rigor. He looks a little surprised, Patrick thought as he walked around the body. While Lisbon was quizzing the sheriff on the victim's identity so Rigsby and Cho could also examine the scene, Patrick noted something in the brush.

"His wallet says he's Doug Lehman, 38 from Seattle. There's a park permit dated about 3 days ago, had about $80 cash and a couple of credit cards still in the wallet," Hollins was saying.

"Blunt force trauma," Patrick declared. "Who moved the body? Those hikers who found him?"

Hollins looked a little startled. "How'd you know that?"

"Well, there is blood all over the back of his head, but the blood pool is off to his right and over a foot away, but not smeared or creating much a of a trail, indicating the body was moved but not while he was alive," Patrick stated, then squatted near what he was looking at. "A bloody tree branch hidden under the scrub here indicates the murder weapon."

Patrick walked back to the sheriff. "And when you find someone lying in the dirt, most people approach and turn the person over to see if they are alive, hence the movement. You said there was a horse nearby? Where is it?"

"Yeah, we got our local vet to take it back down the trail," the sheriff replied, running a hand over his shorn head. "Its bridle was tangled in some brush."

"Don't worry, Sheriff Hollins, you don't have lice anymore," Patrick said. "Interesting. Doug Lehman here must have been horseback when he was struck from behind with the branch, and the fall broke his neck. Not theft, because the money is left behind…."

Hollins gaped at Jane, while Rigsby and Lisbon tried to hide involuntary smiles. Cho maintained his usual deadpan expression, although someone observant might have seen a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

"How do you hit a man on horseback on the back of the head?" Cho asked.

"That, my dear Cho, is an excellent question, "Patrick replied, his sudden charming smile appearing again.

"Wait a minute," Hollins broke in, "Lice? How'd you know I had lice?"

"It's not a big mystery. You keep rubbing your head because you are not used to the new haircut," Patrick replied. "There are healing scratches and welts where your head itched, and you smell faintly of an astringent medication used to treat head lice. You wear a wedding ring, and I saw a My Little Pony in your cruiser, so unless you collect My Little Pony's, you likely have a school age daughter. Girls get lice more than boys, so she likely caught them from someone at school, and infested you."

Lisbon decided to end this conversation. "Can we get back to the issue at hand? We done here?" She asked Jane.

Patrick shrugged, blue eyes twinkling, "Yeah, I guess."

She was already on her phone. "Cho, Rigsby, finish up here, then find out where he was staying and how he got here," They heard a tiny voice answer line," Van Pelt, its Lisbon. Our victim is Doug Lehman, out of Seattle. 38 years old. Find out everything you can."

She hung up, and motioned for Patrick to follow her. "Let's go talk to those hikers,"

Back down the hill, the hikers were milling around, one looking a little pale.

"Hello, gentlemen, my name is Teresa Lisbon, California Bureau of Investigations," she said, "This is Patrick Jane. We'd like a few words with you,"

"Look, we already told those other cops everything we know," a short kid with glasses and a nasal voice said.

"I understand that," Lisbon replied, "Just a few more questions,"

Patrick found his attention wandering. These hikers, likely college kids up here for a weekend of camping, wouldn't tell him much more than he already knew. As Lisbon deftly questioned them, Patrick saw the gentle wind tease a little lock of her dark hair across her eyes. He felt a brief urge to gently tuck it back behind her ear, before her small graceful fingers did it for him. Sunlight glinted off her small gold cross, and he absently rubbed his wedding band with his thumb. A soft curse made him turn and look at Hollins again.

He was talking with one of the uniformed officers, probably a deputy, who was obviously giving him some bad news judging by the dismayed expression on Hollin's face. Patrick wandered over. Rigsby and Cho had also come back and headed for the sheriff as well.

"Look, she's…." the deputy stopped as they approached. "Well, you know she's not the most reasonable of people," he finished lamely.

"Problem, Sheriff?" Cho asked.

"Aw, hell. Not again. It's the vet," Hollins sighed in irritation. "She wants to take the horse back to town, but the forensic people haven't finished processing. She won't even let them examine the horse,"

"Frank!" a clear female voice carried across the field. "Tell your jack booted thugs to move and let me get this horse down the trail! He needs medical attention. Those cuts on his legs need cleaning and I doubt he's had much food and water overnight up here, hobbled up like he was."

Cho turned, and blinked. Approaching the long suffering Hollins was one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. Not in the classic way like Van Pelt or even Lisbon, but in a slightly exotic way. Dark, almond shaped eyes flashed in irritation, skin a light bronze tone, wavy black hair with a single lock escaping the simple pony tail to curl under her left ear. Cho felt his world slow as she approached, and noticed she would be a little taller than he was. Her jeans hugged her hips and lithe legs in a way he particularly liked. Her brow was furrowed in irritation, but somehow it didn't really detract. He remembered to breathe.

Patrick had been looking at Cho when he saw the woman, and saw the blink. Most wouldn't know it, Rigsby certainly missed its significance, but Patrick saw Cho's reaction and smiled in wonderment. Wow, he thought, he's completely bowled over! Then he turned, and felt his own heart skip a beat.

Cho saw her shocked expression as she came to a dead stop, staring at something behind him. He looked behind to see the exact same expression of shock in Patrick Jane's face, and felt his stomach drop to his knees. By then, Rigsby and Lisbon had both turned to see Jane's patented charisma simply explode into a wide grin of pure happiness. Cho could only watch as his dream woman ran right into his friend's arms with a delighted laugh, to be hugged tightly as she was swung around. It felt like a kick in the stomach when she planted a sound kiss on the edge of Patrick's smiling lips, and got one in return.

Lisbon felt a quiver go through her as this strange woman kissed Jane, and almost missed it when he kissed her back soundly. Quickly suppressing the confused feeling it gave her, she approached. Lisbon couldn't remember ever seeing such unrestrained joy in her friend's face, the happiness in his full laughter as he held the woman tightly and swung her around twice. To be honest, she couldn't remember him really laughing like this at all. Hollis and his deputy seemed floored, and where staring at the woman like she had grown a second head or sprouted wings.

"Oh my god, Janey!" the woman laughed. "I can't believe it's you!"

Patrick could only laugh in surprise himself. "How have you been, Sparky? I didn't realize we were so close!"

He set her down, keeping his arm wrapped firmly around her waist and turned her to face his friends.

"Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, meet Dr. Gemma Patrick," he crowed happily, "the best damn veterinarian in northern California!"

Gemma blushed slightly, and elbowed him. He winced but didn't let her go, both Lisbon and Cho noted. Rigsby gave a wide smile and stuck out his hand.

"Lisbon?" Gemma echoed, "you must his CBI team! Happy to meet all of you at last!"

Gemma took Rigsby's hand, then Lisbon's. Lisbon noted wanly it was a firm, solid handshake. Gemma turned to Cho, and Patrick noted they both hesitated an instant before they shook hands. He could only smile wider.

"Uh, sorry folks…"Hollis' baritone broke in.

"Don't you "sorry" me, Frank!" Gemma spun on the hapless sheriff. "You let me take that poor beast off this hill right now! Your goons can pick up the riding tack for evidence at my barn later, but I'm taking that horse! What, like the dirt in his leg wounds is key to the case?"

"The horse was hurt?" Jane asked quickly, "Can I take a look?"

"Of course, Janey, right this way," and arm in arm, led him toward the trailer, both grinning happily. Hollis just stared harder, and his deputy's mouth fell open.

"Whoa," Hollis breathed, "I have never seen that woman be, well, reasonable!"

"What do you mean?" Rigsby asked, finally seeing the uncharacteristically flummoxed Cho. Lisbon looked thoughtful.

"Gemma Patrick isn't really a people person," Hollis explained. "Usually she just snaps off orders and does what she wants anyway. She can be pretty damn unpleasant, to tell you the truth. To people anyway, she's a wonder with animals. And sometimes kids. But I've known her for almost 6 years now, and she has never done with anyone what she did with Mr. Jane. I didn't think she knew people as friends." He shook his head and headed for his car.

"Lisbon!" Jane called out, peeking from behind the horse trailer and waving to her.

Lisbon and the others trailed dutifully after. Once there, they saw Gemma talking softly and gently to the horse, holding up one of his rear legs so Jane could see the scratches and at least one nasty cut.

"Sparks, could these be from the attack?" Jane was asking.

"Indirectly, maybe," Gemma replied, patting the horses rump soothingly. "These cuts are all from the brush around here. It's why the horse trails are further up the mountain; rangers keep less underbrush to not hurt horse and rider. Usually horses can avoid it, but something made this poor boy run right into the brambles. I have to get these cleaned and fixed up. Horses don't take infections in the legs well."

"Do we have any idea where a guy from Seattle got a horse up here?" Lisbon asked.

"Renton," Gemma replied.

"Renton?" Cho asked, bringing out his notepad. "Where's that?"

Gemma smiled at him, "No, Jack Renton. He owns a stable about 15 miles down the mountain, just outside of Mina. He will rent out horses and take tourists up for tours. Renton's brand is on the horse's neck. I was going to call Renton once I got him fixed up."

"Mina," Rigsby muttered, "Well, boss, want me to find us someplace to say? It's 6 hours back to Sacramento and already 3 pm."

"Yeah, good idea, Rigsby," Lisbon replied. "Cho, you talk to Mr. Renton in the morning."

"You won't find much," Gemma said, letting the horse's leg down with a pat and an odd clucking sound. "Nearest town with a decent hotel is Ukiah, about 2 hours away. Mina is really just a gas station and a post office if Bob isn't off on a bender. Not even many vineyards out this way. Most people who stay here are campers."

She looked at Patrick, and something silent flew between them. "Come on, Sparks," Patrick said softly, and she nodded.

"Alright, you are Janey's friends, so I guess you can stay at my house. I got a spare bedroom for Agent Lisbon, the guys can split the floor in the den and couch." Gemma sighed, "I don't usually do this, but hey, why not?" She smiled at Jane, her almond eyes crinkling a little at the corners.

Lisbon took a breath, not sure she why she was uneasy with this. It wasn't because Jane would be spending the night close to this woman he felt he could hug and kiss easily…it wasn't. It couldn't. But there weren't a lot of options. She had noted the town of Mina as they drove up to the crime scene, and she had to agree Gemma was probably right.

"Alright," Lisbon agreed. "Thank you, Ms. Patrick."

Patrick laughed and Gemma grimaced. "Please, just call me Gemma. Friends of Janey's get that much, at least. Just follow me down the mountain. My office and barn are pretty much at my house anyway,"

"I'll catch a ride with Sparky," Jane told Lisbon and noted Cho's little startle from the corner of his eye. He really was affected by her, Jane thought; good old Cho is never this expressive!

"Fine," Lisbon said, trying not to sound huffy. But curiosity was starting to eat into the odd little ice cube in her chest. Who was this woman, this "Sparky" Patrick Jane seemed to know so very well? Well, the trip down the mountain offered time to make a phone call to a red-headed agent who was good at finding things like this out.

Gemma Patrick's dusty blue truck pulled into the yard near a barn. It was small but well kept. Lisbon wrinkled her nose slightly at the rich manure scent in the air, but overall it wasn't unpleasant. As she, Rigsby and Cho exited their SUV, she saw the dark haired vet bounce out of her truck.

"Come on, city boy, "Gemma was saying, "you can help with the horse."

"Uh, I'm not so sure…" Patrick looked a little alarmed.

"Don't worry," Gemma laughed, "just hold the trailer doors. I know better than you trust you with a horse! While I'm doing this, would you boys open the barn door?"

Rigsby and Cho looked at each other, shrugged and went to the wide doors. Lisbon smiled slightly at Jane's uncharacteristically ginger handling of the squeaky trailer doors, and snickered as he jumped behind them as the horse made its way out. Gemma's dark brown eyes met Lisbon's green for a second, and they shared a moment of mirth at the cowardice of men, before she led the horse away. Lisbon saw an orange tabby cat and a calico dart from the barn and vanish.

"Janey, I've got this. Go show your friends in," Gemma called over her shoulder and tossed him the keys, "Try the tea in the red box, too strong for me, but you might like it. And feed the big one, before he eats somebody!"

Rigsby blushed, "How'd she know…."

"Who doesn't?" Cho asked deadpan, eyes lingering slightly on the now empty doorway before bringing himself back to professional mode.

Jane waved them over to the small one-story ranch house, painted a light blue with cream trim. The lawn was a little ragged, but the flower bed lovingly tended, and they got a whiff of honeysuckle as they approached the vine covered porch. Jane let them in, and made sure to scrape his shoes on the sturdy mat with an orange cat on it. The others followed his example, and Jane tossed his coat onto the couch and made a beeline for what they presumed to be the kitchen. Lisbon turned to the side, taking out her phone and Rigsby followed the blond man to the kitchen, a puppy-dog hopeful look in his endless search for snacks.

Cho looked around. The room was dark with the shades pulled, hazy faint sunlight spilling in. A well used but still comfortable looking dark blue couch had a red throw blanket on it, and small black kitten stretched and fearlessly headed to investigate these new visitors, the little bell tinkling on its silver collar. Cho absently scratched his new friend's ears as his gaze travelled around.

Tasteful wall art, a few candles, but mostly he saw books everywhere; a few scattered on the floor, some on the coffee table but mostly on overflowing bookshelves. Big TV and a DVD player, an overflowing shelf of DVDs near, few knick knacks but more than a few plants spilled over shelf edges. Something bugged him, before he realized there weren't any pictures of people, no parents or friends anywhere.

A sound behind him startled him, and he turned to see Gemma walking in. Smiling at him, she took the coats lying over the couch back and opened the closet door to put them away.

"Squeak, leave the man alone," she said. The kitten mewed slightly, and jumped down to curl around her mistress's legs. "Sorry about that, Agent Cho. Squeak is more curious than normal, even for a cat. But she's sweet."

"It's ok," Cho said. Silence stretched, then he waved to the living room, "This is quite a library you have here,"

Gemma smiled. " Yeah, my one true weakness. Never met a book I didn't immediately need to have, except romances. Can't stand those."

They heard a clank, then a crash from the kitchen, the sound of something breaking. Gemma and Cho headed in, to see an unflappable Jane sipping from a chipped green cup, gazing at a shocked Rigsby who had a broken yellow plate and the remnants of a sandwich at his feet.

Rigsby paled as he saw his host. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, I…."

Gemma just arched one dark eyebrow as Rigsby trailed off.

"Nice," Cho stated. Jane's mouth twitched a little.

"What the hell is going on here?" Lisbon demanded as she entered. "Aw, hell, Rigsby! You and your stomach!"

"Boss, I'm so sorry!" Rigsby stammered as he quickly bent down to clean up the mess.

Gemma speared Jane with an arch look. "Your friend, your fault," she declared.

"Who, me?" Jane said, mock innocently, "What do you want me to do about it?"

"You're making dinner," Gemma replied and headed for the back door to outside. "Some of us work for a living. I'm going back to that work, be back in about 7. Dinner, table, ready."

Just as she was about to let the door close, she paused and looked back at the crowded kitchen, turning to face them.

"Just make yourself comfortable." she said a little stiffly but sincerely. "Other than not letting Squeak outside, don't worry about it. " Then she was gone.

"Who is Squeak?" Lisbon asked, confused.

"The cat," Cho replied.

"Oh."

"Well," Jane said with a smile, "guess I'd better get started on dinner."


	2. The Fight

**Chapter 2—The Fight**

Patrick Jane rooted around Gemma's kitchen, still marveling at how happy they had been to see each other. Five years was a long time to not see someone he loved, but now he regretted it. Gemma had stayed away because he had asked her too, and now, today, they had joyously and unexpectedly re-united. She didn't even have the common courtesy to be even mildly irritated with him for pushing her away for so long.

He added another lump of guilt join the seemingly endless collection he had already amassed.

"Jane?" Lisbon asked from the kitchen door. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Jane replied, looking up, "Just working on dinner. Chicken going to be ok with everyone, do you think?"

"Uh, yeah, should be fine," Lisbon replied. "Will there be enough?"

"Living this far out, Sparks would have to buy bulk," Jane replied.

"So," Lisbon said, waiting expectantly.

"So," Jane echoed as he pulled out a large bag of frozen chicken from the freezer.

"Ok, spill," Lisbon finally said in mild irritation, "How do you know Gemma Patrick?"

Jane smiled. "You asked sooner than I thought you would," he said as Rigsby and Cho walked into the kitchen. He set them all chopping vegetables before speaking, cautioning a blushing Rigsby to not break anymore dishes.

"I've known Gemma since she was eight years old," Jane started, smiling at the memory. "We met when she picked my pocket at the Montana state fair when I was eighteen."

"She picked your pocket," Cho said as he deftly peeled a carrot. Rigsby eyed at his partner's unexpected expertise. "What? My grandmother likes to cook, and makes us help."

Jane and Lisbon smiled at each other before Jane continued to speak.

"Yep, she was pretty good at it too. She was almost lost in the crowd before I realized what had happened," Jane grinned. He pulled the chicken he had defrosted in the microwave out, and started to cut and place their dinner into a baking dish.

"What were you doing in Montana," Rigsby asked, nearly nicking his finger with a paring knife. For a man obsessed with food, he seemed a bit klutzy in the kitchen.

"It was one of the last times I went with my father on the carnival circuit, before I left for college," he replied. Noting Lisbon was done with her task, he smiled at her and handed her a lemon to slice.

"Anyway, turns out her mother was a good friend of my father's," Jane continued. "I just kind of kept in touch with them. Gemma's mother was a psychic for the fairs at that time,"

"Of course," Lisbon grinned, "Why would you have normal friends? Did she do readings like you?"

Jane grinned again, blue eyes twinkling. "No, tarot cards and palm reading mostly. "

Cho handed his peeled and sliced carrots to Jane. "So, how long has it been since you've seen her? Looked like a long time."

Jane's smiled dimmed slightly, and he looked out the kitchen window.

"It has been," he said softly.

**Five years ago, at the Jane residence in Malibu.**

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you, of all people!" Jane yelled, "That same sanctimonious bourgeois morality we've laughed at for years!"

"Janey, you aren't listening to me!" Gemma yelled back. "I don't like what you are doing, what you are becoming, and I'm not going to help you anymore!"

"After all I've done for you, you won't do this one little thing for me?" Jane spat. "Me, who took you in when you had nothing…"

"Who do you think you are talking to?" Gemma hissed, "You can't manipulate me like I'm some mark!"

"But you have done this for me a thousand times before," Jane said in angry confusion, "Why not now? When it really matters to me? This TV interview, this show could be it! The ticket to the big time, to my own show like that John Edwards clown!"

Gemma sighed. "Janey…"

"Sparks, your own mother taught me most of what I know about being a psychic," Jane said, "How can you be so hypocritical?"

Gemma's eyes flashed. "Hypocritical? Hypocritical! You think **_I'm_ **being hypocritical? You are the hypocrite!"

Jane turned to face the broad window, trying to school his hurt expression. Of all the people in the world he would have expected to judge him, Gemma, whom he had known since she was just a scrawny little girl, would never have crossed his mind.

"How am I the hypocrite here?" he asked stiffly. "Both you and your mother did the same thing for years!"

"Yes, my mother played your game," Gemma replied, "She played psychic and took people's money, and so did I, until I walked away. But we never, not once, held them in contempt like you do! It was a job, a way to put food on the table and to _survive_, not a way to be superior! Not a way to stroke our own ego!"

He saw her reflection in the window as she came up behind him, wavering in the image of the ocean beach outside. He felt her hand on his shoulder, but shrugged it off.

"Look," Gemma said, as he tried to ignore her hurt look in the reflection, "You make a very good living, and you are very good at this. I'm not saying you should quit or anything, but you can't keep going like this."

"Like what?" Jane snapped, turning his head slightly to avoid looking at Gemma, gazing into the Malibu surf. He ran his hand through his hair when he noticed it was mussed in the reflection.

"Like an arrogant jackass," Gemma said bluntly, seeing his unconscious vanity. "I see the looks you have on your face, the distaste and scorn you have for your clients' emotional state. A state you put them in, in case you forgot! Your arrogance and egotistical self promotion is going to cost you one day."

Jane snorted dismissively. "If you won't help me, just go back to your cabin in the woods already. Go back to hiding from the world like you always do."

Gemma's reflection shook her head, her dark brown eyes sad, and quietly left the room. Jane took a deep breath, still hurt and perplexed at Gemma's odd refusal. She rarely refused him anything, not that he asked very often. Despite everything, he did understand her reluctance to play his games.

He felt rather than heard when his wife came in the room, with her aura of kind patience. Of all the many things he loved about her, her ability to just be gentle was what he loved the most. Somehow she was the purest soul he had ever met, and he, who saw everyone with an angle, had never once been able to see her as anything but an angel. His heart swelled and nearly burst when she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and pressed her cheek into his shoulder. He wrapped his own arms around hers and leaned his head back to touch her pale hair, content.

"Gemma just left," she said. "I heard you two fighting. I didn't think you two even knew how to fight."

Jane smiled ruefully. "Not often, no. We know each other too well. Usually, anyway. I don't know what has gotten into her, lately."

His wife turned him in her arms and kissed him softly. "She's worried about you," she said finally.

"Worried about me? Why?" Jane asked, breathing in her subtle perfume—spearmint and eucalyptus, a birthday gift from Gemma, ironically. It suited his wife well.

"You two," his wife replied, "you are so similar in so many ways, both so brilliant. She sees something that worries her. Why won't you trust that? Trust her? You always say she could be better than even you, if she wanted to be."

Jane held her tighter, thoughtful, his hurt anger already fading in her arms, as all his troubles did. "Well, I can't worry about it now," he said finally. "I've got to fly out to L.A. for my show in the morning. Kiss our daughter for me when she gets back from school, and promise her a bedtime story when I get back tomorrow night."

His wife smiled up at her husband, content.

"Alright. Good luck, honey. We will be here when you get back."

It was the last time Patrick Jane ever heard his wife's voice again.


	3. The Funeral

Chapter 3-The funeral

Gemma arrived almost too late for dinner. Lisbon had noticed that Jane had prepped a plate, wrapped it up and placed in the fridge even as he served up dinner for everyone else. The rest of dinner went uneventfully, Jane keeping them amused in typical fashion and somehow no more questions appeared.

Gemma smiled at them as she walked in from the back kitchen door.

"Sorry I'm late," the dark haired woman said, "Got hung up. Where's dinner?"

"Plate in the fridge," Jane replied, sipping his tea. "This tea is very good. Cinnamon currant?"

"Yes, got it last time I was up to Seattle," Gemma replied, heating up her plate. "Too strong for me. Yum, this smells great! Almost forgot what a good cook you are, Janey."

"There's hot water, want me to make your favorite mint tea?" Jane asked. Cho promptly got up and took his and his boss' plate to the sink, making room for Gemma. Rigsby was helping himself to thirds, and Lisbon was nursing her coffee.

Gemma smiled at Jane, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "Please. You will find the honey over the stove."

"So, Gemma, what can you tell me about Mr. Renton?" Lisbon asked, deciding to get some work done despite her curiosity.

"Not much to say, really," Gemma said between bites, "He's run that stable about 3 years now. It never made any money until last year."

"How do you know he started to make money only last year?" Cho asked.

Gemma laughed. "Oh, that. Suddenly, my bills got paid on time and in full, no asking for extensions or giving me promises of payment next month. Last time I was up there, he was even starting to build a new display and training area, and was fixing up his barn's roof. That thing has been leaking for years."

Lisbon and Cho traded looks, their interest piqued. Jane just smiled and handed Gemma her tea. When she and Rigsby were finally done with dinner, Gemma stood up and reached out to gather up the leftovers.

"No," Jane said firmly, catching her hand and giving it a quick kiss. Cho frowned slightly, and Lisbon shifted in her chair and sipped her coffee. "I will take care of it. You go, relax. It's been a long day."

Gemma looked a little startled by the kiss, but then smiled. Jane still had her hand, so she reached out with her other and pushed a curl off his brow.

"Silly man," Gemma said, "but fine by me. Agent Lisbon? How about I show you and your team where to sleep tonight."

They quickly agreed, and the tall woman led them out of the kitchen. She directed Cho and Rigsby toward the den, and pointed out the bathroom nearby with a shower. She opened a closet door and pulled out a bunch of blankets and pillows. From the bottom of the closet she pulled out a plastic storage bin, and opened it to reveal some deflated air mattresses.

"This is the best I can do for you guys," Gemma said with an apologetic smile, "I don't usually have more than one guest. I figure you two and Janey can share that bath down the hall. Air pump should be in the bottom of the box. Agent Lisbon, let me show you the guest room and you can use my bathroom."

The guest room was small and simply decorated. A slightly worn blanket with a running horse on it graced a double bed, with a few pictures of various city skylines on the walls. There was a small dresser with a mirror, and some rugs on the floor. Simple and functional, but still surprisingly inviting.

Gemma guided Lisbon into her own bedroom, showing her a master bath with one of the nicest bathtubs she had ever seen. Deep and luxurious and made of an pale blue marbled stone with claw-feet, it looked perfect for long, deliciously languorous baths. Gemma saw Lisbon's appreciation and gave a smile that was almost the equal of anything Patrick Jane could give.

"I love this tub, too," Gemma confided. "Go ahead and enjoy! I will just take a quick shower before bed tonight."

"Oh, thank you!" Lisbon replied, sorely tempted but not sure if she would take her hostess up on it. "I'll let you clean up then."

Once Lisbon left, Gemma sat on her bed and started to slowly undress for her shower. This day was an amazing blur. Janey! He was actually here, and talking to her again in person, not just on the phone or brief letter. They had laughed together like before that monster had destroyed both their lives. Pausing, she realized just how different Patrick Jane was.

Oh, his undeniable charm and charisma was still there in spades. Same quick smile and wit, but his eyes were shadowed with sadness now; probably much like her own eyes had changed five years ago. She also saw the bags under his eyes, so he still had insomnia. And he was kind and empathetic in way he hadn't been before. She saw it in the care he took to make sure everyone had enough to eat and drink, the way he patted Rigsby on the back when he swallowed his water wrong and sputtered. And that kiss to her hand, silent apology and affection in one gesture. She re-lived the relief in his eyes when she had brushed his hair back like she had done before everything changed. Apology joyously accepted.

She could still see the overwhelming guilt in him, and definitely saw his rage. That had also not been there before. Before, fury hadn't burned in the back of his eyes or traced the line of his posture. Practically nobody else would even notice, but she did. That same fury matched a faint ember in her soul, ready to be stoked into full conflagration someday.

The almost scalding heat of the shower felt wonderful on her sore muscles. As she waited for her hair conditioner to set in and scrubbed between her toes, she thought about what she saw. Lisbon had been a little uncomfortable when Janey had kissed her hand, as had that wonderfully attractive Cho. Rigsby was oblivious, enraptured by his dinner. But there was affection there, a respect and mutual trust she had never seen before between Jane and people who weren't part of his little family. These people cared about him, she marveled, really cared about him!

And that was a wonderful thing to see. Her Janey was broken still, maybe always would be. He had gone up to that room five years ago, and had never really come out. But there was something akin to healing here, with these people. She knew what it was like to be able to choose a family, to need to create one when your own blood was more toxic than loving, and to rebuild what was lost. That was what she had done with Jane so long ago.

A few hours later, Gemma Patrick tossed in her bed, her sleeping mind dredging up the past. Her little cat finally gave up and wandered off in search of a calmer napping spot. If she had been awake, she would have cursed her dreams. Fragments of memory and feeling never really forgotten slowly began to coalesce into shape as a rainstorm moved in. The scent of fresh rain and the patter on the window lulled her into a deeper slumber.

Five Years Ago.

The sun shone brightly in a clear, perfect sky. Gemma thought it bitterly ironic that the day should be so cheerful and warm when her heart was so heavy and cold.

She watched two caskets be lowered into the lonely ground. One was so small; her heart broke again for the thousandth time in less than a week. Her niece, her wonderful, mercurial niece was being laid to rest on this disgustingly perfect day. And her mother, the closest person Gemma had ever met to being a saint, a woman she loved like the sister she never had, being settled beside her. In a way, that was almost a comfort, Gemma thought, that her niece need never be alone. If there was something on the other side of death, Gemma hoped desperately they were at least together.

Another tear traced silently down her cheek. It felt like she had been crying for years, instead of days, and now she felt so numb she couldn't even sob anymore, just silently leak tears. But Gemma preferred the tears, because when she wasn't crying, she felt a deep and shaking rage inside that scared her. Rage at the unknown man, the monster that had shattered the only family she had ever wanted.

Red John. That name threaded a black and red trail of hatred and pain through her mind.

She heard a muffled sound she didn't recognize at first. Then she looked to the huddled man slumped next to her. Patrick Jane was broken, she thought, and moved to hug him. The muffled sound continued, and she knew he was trying desperately not to scream his grief into that revoltingly perfect sky. She brought him closer into her embrace. He felt so frail in her arms, and when he turned into her she rocked him gently. Their shared pain made them oblivious to anything and everyone else for a moment, before Gemma's eyes caught the gaze of the woman on the other side of the caskets.

Tammy, Gemma remembered, that bitch's name is Tammy. The other woman was slender, with light brown hair, reddened eyes and sending a murderous gaze at the sobbing man in Gemma's embrace. Gemma had nearly punched the woman when she had accused Patrick of getting her sister killed after the memorial service. Patrick had flinched like he had been physically hit, and seemed to crumple into himself. Some paunchy football player of a man had dragged Tammy away, husband probably. Gemma knew there was a reason she had never met Patrick's in-laws in the nearly 10 years he had been married, and now she understood. His wife had always just shrugged, and said she preferred the Jane family to her own when Gemma had asked about it. Tammy had lashed out in grief and guilt after losing the estranged sister she hadn't seen in 15 years, and thoughtlessly crushed what little remained of the man this tragedy had left behind. Gemma understood Tammy's pain, but that didn't mean she would forgive it.

The service seemed to drag on eternally. All Gemma wanted was to curl up into a ball and sob, but she was approaching that numb space where grief gave way to an empty hollowed-out feeling in her chest. The tears would start again later, but this empty place was almost a respite for a moment. Finally the funeral ended, and she and her broken Janey shuffled back to the waiting car. The others, people Gemma didn't know well, people who were really no more than faceless caricatures of friends. Oh, they had been properly horrified and saddened, but in the coming days Gemma could see them all pulling away. All of them driven to distance themselves from the emotional train wreck and tragedy that was now Patrick Jane, as if that would make it just go away, so Gemma paid them little mind.

Later that night, too emotionally tired to do more than breathe, Gemma dozed fitfully in a hotel. She had wanted to go with Jane to his home, but he had adamantly told her to stay away. She had tried to insist, only to be told to go away in a broken voice. Worried, she had finally done as Jane asked, but was too fatigued to start the long drive home, so now she rested on a scratchy hotel blanket in the cooling Malibu evening.

Suddenly, she sat straight up, eyes wide and horrified.

"Oh my god," she breathed, and then frantically started looking for her keys. Finding them, she hurled herself down the stairs to her car.

"No, no, no, don't you dare, no, no, no!" she chanted to herself in a near panic as she thoughtlessly broke a dozen traffic laws in a frantic effort to reach Patrick Jane's home.

Her mother had called it "the flash," a moment of clarity and sudden complete understanding. Her mother had told her, "Gem, even if you are just pretending to listen, sometimes you will still hear. That is the flash, when you know something you shouldn't possibly know. I don't know if it's a real psychic thing or not, but you respect it when it happens, and you listen to it."

When she had told Jane about it years later, he laughed and said it was just her mind suddenly jumping to a conclusion too fast to consciously follow. Insight yes, but not magic. He had tugged her curly pony tail, and called her "Sparky" for the first time. Gemma didn't know who was right. Maybe they both were.

The flash of lights behind her made her utter a curse, but she didn't stop until she pulled up to the large house. She had ignored the angry wail of the sirens for the last quarter mile, and ran past the indignant cop who was calling for backup.

"Hey, lady!" the cop called out, "stop!"

"Call an ambulance," Gemma shouted over her shoulder as she ran into the darkened house, fumbling for a breathless instant with the lock before it gave way.

She careened slightly into the table by the door and knocked a vase to the ground, but didn't even slow at the crash. The cop rushed in after her through the open door, catching sight of her dark hair as she ran up the stairs and into a bedroom.

"Oh, god, Janey!" she screamed, "No! What have you done?"

The cop followed her up, and saw her cuddling the limp form of a blond man in her arms on a child's bed, stripped of sheets but still bearing a dark red stain. She slapped the man repeatedly, begging him to wake and sobbing hysterically. The policeman turned his mouth into his shoulder unit to call for an ambulance, keeping his eye on the scene in front of him.

Finally the woman gave a cry as the blond man stirred slightly, eyelids fluttering. She hugged him tightly, murmuring nonsense and rocking him, demanding he stay with her until the ambulance arrived. The cop quickly checked out the rest of the house, and felt a chill go through him when he saw the red face on the wall of the master bedroom, the dried blood on the large, stripped bed. Subdued, he returned to the child's room, finally understanding what had happened. This was the famous TV psychic, the one with the murdered family he had been hearing about in the precinct. There had been kind of a cruel enjoyment of the irony of a psychic's family getting. The policeman didn't feel any of that now, seeing the weeping woman and practically tasting the tragedy in this house. He wouldn't be laughing later when the jokes started again.

"Suicide attempt," the paramedic stated as they bundled the blond man up, squeezing a bag that forced air into his lungs. "Any idea what he took?"

"It would have been a narcotic," Gemma said, "Oxycodone or valium. I'm not sure what he could've gotten."

She never left Jane's side, her worried gaze fixed on his pale face, until they lifted him into the ambulance. She finally noticed the policeman again as he handed a pill bottle to the paramedic. The patrolman looked young, a little frightened but still in control, not yet fully armored with the brittle hard edge police eventually acquired. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as they loaded Jane into the ambulance, and then drove away in his squad car. Gemma stifled tears, oddly touched at the only kindness the officer could give her today, by not giving her a ticket. Then she got in her car, and trailed after the ambulance.

Two weeks later, Gemma felt faintly disgusted with herself. Here she was, still crying. Still a weepy, sobbing mess.

She stood outside a hospital room door, looking at Jane. He was just sitting in a chair, nearly motionless, staring off into space. His despair seemed to create a haze the air around him. Gemma angrily dashed the tears from her eyes, and looked to the statuesque woman with brown hair holding a clipboard beside her.

"He doesn't move, he doesn't eat," Gemma said forlornly, "he just sits there. He won't even look at me anymore."

"Miss Patrick," the woman said, her voice soft but urgent. "Mr. Jane is having a major depressive event and is still suicidal. He continues to be a great danger to himself. He needs to be kept hospitalized. We've done what you wanted, treated him here at Cedars-Sinai, but he needs specialty care. It's best if we move him to a psychiatric facility."

"He doesn't like doctors, you know," Gemma said after the silence stretched. She continued to look at her broken Janey before turning to face her companion.

"Can you help him, Dr. Miller? I mean really help him?" Gemma asked, gazing into the woman's blue eyes.

Sophie Miller realized she was being tested in this moment, and that this woman before her would see any attempt to dissemble or give empty platitudes. Gemma's dark, almond eyes seemed to penetrate Sophie's soul and see into her deepest secrets. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being so vulnerable and easily read; it was a feeling Sophie was usually on the other side of.

"It's going to take time, Miss Patrick," Sophie replied, "but I think so. I promise I will do my very best."

Gemma nodded, accepting Sophie's words. Since finding Jane after his suicide attempt, he had only spoken once to her, just after he woke up. He had started crying again before talking.

"You were right," he whispered, and Gemma felt like a knife had just cut out what was left of her heart. He hadn't said a word since then to anyone, and avoided looking at her. It was the only movement he would consistently do, avoid looking at her. It hurt her to see him like this, like a giant blond Gumby doll that was just moved about by his nurses who had to dress, feed and even clean him. It was humiliating and heartbreaking.

She took the clipboard, and taking a deep breath, signed the commitment papers. It would be a private hospital, with the best care, and very discrete. Patrick Jane had enough money and sympathetic clients to ensure that, at least. Then she turned, and walked away.

It would be five years before she saw Patrick Jane in person again.


	4. The Past is Present

**Chapter 4—the Past is Present**

The den was another dim but cozy room, the drapes pulled closed over the windows. Cho got the feeling Gemma was a little like a castle: formidable walls and defenses, but once past the moat with the dragon, a warm, protected space. Her den doubled as an office, judging by the clutter on the desk. Again, more of the woman's seemingly endless piles of books on shelves framed the walls, but more reference and technical books in here. He looked away from a book on veterinary parisitology to see his partner and friend Rigsby trying to clear on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Cho asked as Rigsby turned in a circle for the third time.

"Trying to figure out where I can move this stuff," the tall man replied, indicating a large wooden chest with a pile of sketchbooks on it. It was right in front of the only outlet they could see for the air compressor.

"Just move them behind the desk," Cho said. Together they started to move them, until Risgby dropped one of the books to the floor with a thud. It was a heavy, oversized book with a faded purple leather cover. Inside was a selection of heavy papers, full of drawings and paintings, obviously an artist's binder of works.

"Whoa, look at this, Cho," Rigsby said, opening the book on the desk. He turned a loose page, and suddenly Patrick Jane was looking back at them.

It was an ink drawing of a younger Jane, late teens or early twenties, smiling his wide smile and posed sitting on the hood of a battered sports car. His hair was longer, curling around his shoulders, and he was thinner and looked almost unfinished somehow. It was well drawn but with subtle errors in proportions that made it look off somehow. Written in Jane's distinctive scrawl underneath, were the words "I love it, Sparks! Keep it up!"

Cho reached over and turned more pages. A selection of trees, flowers, animals and more Jane portraits followed as they leafed throw the book. Aside from the images of Jane done in pencil, charcoal and even a watercolor, a woman who looked like an older version of Gemma kept repeating. Her face was the same round shape, her eyes more tilted than Gemma's, with a crooked smile and straight black hair. Her eyes looked tired, even sad, and a small crescent scar marked her right temple in almost every depiction.

As the pages turned, the quality of the pictures improved. Unsure lines gave way to confident shading, static pictures to dynamic scenes. Then another woman appeared, tall and slender with a gentle smile and direct gaze, light brown hair. She was built like an athlete, lean and strong. A few half finished sketches of the new woman and Jane appeared, in various poses. Once, they saw a completed ink portrait that was a copy of a picture clipped to it. In the photograph, Jane and the woman sat on the beach. A younger Jane's arms were wrapped tightly around her, and they gazed carefree into the camera.

As they browsed past what appeared to be anatomical sketches of various animals, some still life studies and a few consciously artistic pieces, Cho realized what they were looking at. This had to be Gemma's portfolio! Probably not all her attempts, just the ones she liked the best, lovingly cherished and preserved. It was like a visual diary of her life.

"Maybe we shouldn't be looking at these," Cho said finally when they were about half way through.

"Yeah, maybe not," Rigsby agreed uneasily, also feeling a little like he had just rifled through someone's personal journal. As he closed the book and picked it up to move, a heavy piece of paper slipped out and shuffled to the ground.

Cho reached down to retrieve it, and then stilled as he gazed at it. Curious, Rigsby turned to look over the shorter agent's shoulder, and also froze at the nearly finished watercolor.

The painting showed three people in a family pose. The brown-haired woman smiled easily as she looked out, her head resting on Jane's shoulder. Jane in this picture was almost identical to the man they saw every day. Almost. His hair was more carefully styled to tame his unruly curls, and his expression was of a man supremely happy with life. It was the face of a man who loved and was loved in return. There was no shadow of ever present pain in these eyes, but oddly, not as much kindness either.

But it was the little girl that stopped the two agents. She was beautiful, with her father's bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth and innocent mischief. She had her mother's strong nose, baby soft cheeks that accented a single dimple and an almost impossible amount of curly blond hair. She looked happy and adored, and at the center of her parents' universe.

Here, right before the two CBI agents, rendered in simple water and paint, was a poignant moment pulled out of time, a crystal clear glimpse of what exactly Patrick Jane had lost. Though they wouldn't admit it out loud, both Rigsby and Cho felt the ache of heartbreak as they finally faced the mute testimony of their friend's tragedy.

"It was supposed to be their anniversary gift," a soft voice broke their reverie. Gemma stood leaning in the doorway, wrapped in a light mint green sweater and long pajama bottoms, her dark hair glistening as it dried after her shower.

"Oh, I…we didn't mean to pry," Rigsby stammered in apology. Gemma just smiled sadly and waved off the apology. Cho found himself gazing at the dusky woman, his mind uncharacteristically fluttering like a trapped bird, desperate to not say or do the wrong thing. As Gemma approached and gently pulled the portrait from his hand, he caught the citrus scent of her shampoo and tried not to be obvious as he breathed it in.

"So you've known Patrick a long time," Cho said, inwardly wincing at the awkwardness of the question.

"Oh, my, yes," Gemma replied as she tenderly put the near-finished portrait back into the leather book and placed the portfolio up on a shelf. "Since forever, it seems like."

"And you knew his family?" Rigsby asked, curiosity winning out over tact.

Gemma turned and leaned her hips against the desk. She looked at the two men, such opposites in some ways but similar enough to mesh seamlessly as a team. She knew they cared about Jane, but seemed to know relatively little about him. It pained her to talk about the past most of the time, and was likely worse for Jane. But tonight, in house full of people she actually found herself liking, and the one man in the entire world she trusted and loved unconditionally just down the hall, it almost pained her more to not talk about it.

"Janey met his wife when I was 14," Gemma said finally. "I had just gotten out of juvie for wrapping the mayor's mid-life crisis porche around a tree. But by the time I got out, I had nowhere to go. My mother had died while I was in jail, and everyone else was long gone. So I called the only person I could think of."

"Jane," Cho stated. Rigsby continued to set up the air mattresses while he listened, feeling that this chance might never come again.

Gemma smiled at the Asian man. "Yes. And he came for me, no questions asked. Just showed up, charmed the social worker, and took me in." She snorted softly. "To be honest, no matter how grateful I was, I felt more than a little bit like a lost puppy he took pity on at the time."

Cho smiled in response, charmed by her lady-like snort of laughter and self-depreciating humor. Gemma knelt and helped the two men fix their beds, while she talked a little more.

"I was worried when I first met her," Gemma continued. "But she was so nice to me, and didn't even bat an eyelash when her fiancé took in a juvenile delinquent with a tendency for grand theft auto. After awhile, she was like my sister. We went shopping. She taught me to cook and how to flirt with boys. I taught her how to pick locks and beat Janey at chess. Janey was my hero, my knight in shining armor, but she is the one who made us a family."

Gemma rose and sighed, suddenly not wanting to talk anymore. Cho felt the need to comfort her when he saw her sadness. Patrick Jane was obviously not the only one who had loves ripped away from him. Cho dared to put his hand on her shoulder as she walked by. The dark haired woman paused in surprise, and then turned. Her dark, luminous eyes seemed to swallow him whole when she looked at him. Her eyelashes looked so long. She patted his hand, and Rigsby nearly choked when Gemma leaned in and left a soft kiss on Cho's cheek, who promptly blushed a fierce scarlett.

Outside the door, Gemma smiled to herself when she heard Rigsby start teasing his companion, and the curt, embarrassed response of Cho. It had been a long time since she had let herself melt a little, and she felt a kind of rubbery, nervous excitement in her stomach. Gemma didn't know what, if anything, would happen next. But one harsh lesson she had learned from that fateful night in Malibu five years ago when she had thought Jane lay dying in her arms.

Regret was not something Gemma Patrick cared to carry in her heart, and she had sworn she never would again.


	5. Midnight tea and Insomniacs

**Chapter 5- Midnight tea and Insomniacs**

The splatter of rain on the roof woke Patrick Jane from his brief slumber. Blurry vision took a moment to fade, and then he could focus on the small numbers on the living room DVD player. 1:37 am. He had slept for almost 4 hours that time, not bad all things considered. Gazing up at the dark ceiling, he listened to rhythm of the wind, heard the water strike and flow down the gutters. It was soothing, but Jane could feel himself becoming more awake, not less. Sighing, he sat up on the couch he had claimed as his resting spot, giving up on sleep for the moment. It was a pattern of long standing, and now so old a routine by now it was practically a friend.

He tried to remember the last time he had stayed at someplace Gemma called home, and couldn't remember. His home had always been hers, but somehow never the reverse. Oh, he didn't doubt he would be welcomed with open arms, but Gemma always came to him for holidays and birthdays. Vacations as a family meant she met them at wherever he and his wife, and later daughter, were living, before heading for airports or boats. Never the reverse. He frowned, suddenly wondering what that said about him. Of course, he had also banished her from his life for five years, despite (or maybe because) everything she had done for him, so there wasn't much lower he could sink in his own eyes where Sparky was concerned.

With a faint grunt, he leveraged himself out from under the light blanket and headed for the kitchen, careful not to make too much noise. The door to the den was closed, Rigsby and Cho likely dreaming deeply by now. Down the darkened hall, he couldn't see the doors that would lead to the slumbering Lisbon or Gemma. A few minutes later, he sat at the kitchen counter, sipping tea by the faint light of the stove hood and watching the rainstorm out the sliding back door.

He turned at the sound of shuffling feet, and was surprised to see Gemma approaching. He had seen her expression when she had left Cho and Rigsby in the den earlier, looking a little like the cat that had gotten into the cream. He suspected she had done something about her attraction to Cho. He approved, Kimball Cho would be good for her. Gemma spent too much time alone, hiding from the world like she had done for the last 8 years.

Since Carol Gentry, he realized, the woman Gemma had deftly steered right into his psychic snare like she had done so many others back then. Carol Gentry, he thought, one of the few times he had ever missed a read on a client, and one of the few gullible people he had actually felt a little sorry for after he read about her death.

Gemma's eyes looked haunted as she wiped sleep from them, blinking as she realized someone was already in her kitchen. Too groggy still to over think it, an old habit appeared. She walked up to him, and pressed her forehead to his for a moment before shuffling off to make her own tea in silence. He smiled in memory. It was an old ritual, one they had shared since he became her guardian when she was just 14. He would be returning in the wee hours of the morning from psychic readings or overnight performance engagements, only to find her reading a book or doing a crossword at the kitchen table.

The first time he had returned to find her like that, he had been moved by her look of lost loneliness. She had been living with him and his fiancé for about 2 months at that point, careful and overly polite. It had actually made him uncomfortable, how formal she had been. He liked the little minx Sparky better than the nervous Gemma he seemed to have inherited. Beryl, her mother, had died only 6 months earlier in a car accident, and he could see how confused she was about her own feelings.

Beryl, frankly, hadn't been much of a mother, leaving her daughter with random relatives and friends while she drifted aimlessly around the country. But she was still "Mother" when you got right down to it. Jane had put his hand on the lost teenage Gemma's shoulder and pressed his forehead into hers in mute testimony that she wasn't alone, before fixing them both tea and they ended up talking until dawn. The first "Midnight tea" as he wife later called it. The next day, the imperious mischief that was Sparky started to peek through again.

"Seems like old times," the adult Gemma said finally, sipping her honey-laced tea. She had never been able to appreciate it with milk, and Jane had always found her version a weak and overly sweet drink.

Jane smiled. "I remember the first time we stayed up all night. I taught you chess while we waited on your mother to finish her tarot readings," he replied. "You were 12."

"You let me win," Gemma smirked slightly.

"You knew?" Jane asked in surprise.

"Well, duh," Gemma replied lightly. "I'm smart, but even I can't beat a grown man at a complex game like chess the first time out the gate."

Jane shrugged, a look of boyish innocence on his face. "Well, I didn't have to let you win for very long. You were kicking my butt in less than a month."

The silence stretched, the easy camaraderie from before becoming strained. He could feel the inevitableness of the coming conversation, and was not looking forward to it, but knew it had to happen. Midnight tea had always been their time.

His wife had often wondered why they sometimes couldn't talk about the elephant in the room unless it was at 2 am at the kitchen table, with a cup of herbs in steaming hot water. He mentally braced for the accusation he could feel building in her, and waited. He hoped he was strong enough to take it, knowing he deserved it. Jane looked out the patio doors to avoid her eyes, dreading what he knew was coming.

"Please don't," Gemma whispered. Jane looked at her in surprise. That was not the statement he had been expecting at all.

"Don't what?" Jane asked in confusion.

"Not look at me," Gemma replied softly, gazing into her cooling tea. "I can't take that, not from you. Not again."

Jane was shocked to see a tear fall from her eye and trail down her cheek, as she huddled over her tea. She held the cup in front of her like a shield, and she a child hiding behind it.

This was not what he had predicted would happen. His Sparky was not a crier, she was a fearlessly confront and maybe throw something woman. She always had been, from the time he had chased her eight year old frame running off with his wallet. When he had caught her, she had shrieked at him, kicked him in the shins hard, and then managed to steal his watch as well before slipping his grip. That memory still made him laugh.

It took him a moment to realize what was going on, to dredge up the hazy, drug-addled memory. That day in the hospital, after he had tried to follow his family into oblivion, he had looked into Gemma's frightened eyes. His guilt and misery made their last fight painfully clear, a prophecy recognized only after the fact. The agony of knowing it was entirely his fault; the crushing remorse had driven him to whisper "You were right" and accept all the blame as his own. After that, he couldn't bear to look at her, terrified of seeing the hatred he felt for himself reflected in her dark brown eyes.

Gazing at her trembling form, he realized that she believed his suicide attempt had been her fault! That her bitterly accurate words had been an unintended curse that drove him over the edge. Things clicked in his mind. Why she hadn't come to visit him again once she signed the commitment papers, why she was never the one to call or write, why she had actually stayed away when he had hinted he wasn't ready. That should have told him right there. Gemma Patrick would never have just stayed away for _five years_, unless something else was going on.

He finally saw the guilt she tried to hide away, guilt that she had been the straw that broke the camel's back and driven him to suicide. Fear that maybe he blamed her for keeping him alive.

He got up and wrapped his arms around her. "It's not your fault", he whispered over and over until she relaxed into his embrace and began to sob. His own tears had long ago dried to dust in the inferno of his hatred for his family's killer, but he remembered having these same heaving tears in Gemma's shoulders at the funeral. The blond man finally had the grace to wonder who had held her while she mourned.

No one.

Jane realized he had promptly given into despair and self-loathing, and left her alone to face her own grief. He had forced her to make the funeral arrangements, then endure the media blitz that had been ruthless. The hard choices, like the one to commit him to Sophie Miller's care, had fallen onto Gemma. Eventually, she had taken power of attorney and worked to safeguard his assets while he was lost in his own personal hell. He vaguely remembered being told his business partner had tried to embezzle his money, and knew about the lawyers who had caught the scent of blood in the water and came sniffing around. To this day, Gemma still hated lawyers the way Jane disliked doctors.

And all that time she had been comforting and protecting him, she had been very much alone. Her only real fear in life was having no one there when she needed them. And when the time came, there hadn't been.

He felt Gemma whimper between racking sobs, her fingers clutching at his waist. Jane cuddled her closer and rocked her, remembering all the times she had held him up, and cursed himself for not being there when she finally had needed him. Five years of grief denied and aching loneliness finally came flooding out as her emotional dam broke.

"I love you, Sparky," Jane said softly and stroked her curly dark hair, "Hush, love. It's not your fault. It's not your fault!"

In his heart, he realized he had failed her, and Patrick Jane added one more sin to his tally. But tonight, this night, he was finally upholding his end of the deal. He hoped it was enough.


	6. The Truth will Out

**Chapter 6-the Truth will Out**

Teresa Lisbon stretched and opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room, false dawn just starting to peek in through the blinds on the window. Her travel alarm clock said 4:25 am, her usual waking time. With the skill of long practice, she remembered where she was and rolled out of bed with a soft oomph. Opening the bedroom door, she peered down the hallway, hoping no one was there to see her bed head and pink, frilly pajamas.

Next door, the den door was still closed so the guys were probably still asleep. Gemma's bedroom door was open slightly, and Lisbon spotted a folded note taped to it, her last name written large in Jane's distinctive scrawl.

_Lisbon,_

_Went with Gemma to find supplies. Apparently, we are eating her out of house and home. Rigsby is anyway._

_Back in few hours, call if you need me._

_Jane_

_PS-Sparks says help yourself to her bathtub. Enjoy!_

Lisbon shook her head, but then smiled a little girl smile as she thought of that wonderful tub. Taking her clothes and one of the towels Gemma had left; she headed into her hostess' bedroom and shut the door. She piled her clothes neatly on the bathroom vanity, and filled the tub. Slipping out of her sleepwear, she relaxed into the decadently warm water. Being built for the much taller Gemma, Lisbon could stretch out in the tub to her heart's content, the cool marble cradling the back of her head. It was as wonderful as she had hoped.

Finally Lisbon started to really look around the bathroom. Last night she had been too uneasy to really stare while she quickly brushed her teeth and got ready for bed, but this morning was a different story.

"Just who are you, Gemma Patrick?" Lisbon murmured softly as she took in the bathroom.

The bathtub was by far the most luxurious thing in it, but the rest wasn't too far behind. The custom-made vanity was of a nice dark oak, with pale blue and cream tiles in intricate geometric patterns making up the splash board. Next to recessed shelving holding various soaps, lotions, hair clips and ties, a large mirror hung and opened to a roomy medicine cabinet. A fancy but sturdy silver faucet hovered over a sink made of the same crushed marble as the tub. Even the toilet seemed high end, and the lighting was bright but not harsh. The walls were painted a soft cream, with what looked like hand-painted ivy with small blue flowers running along the ceiling. The floor was tiled with pale stone, and covered in fluffy blue carpets.

The rest of the house was done in tasteful but not extravagant style, the aim obviously more for comfort than style. Even the decent sized kitchen was just ordinary, but this bathroom would have been perfect in a palace. Lisbon wondered at a woman who would spend this much money on a single room of her home.

Once dried and readied to face the day an hour later, Lisbon left that heavenly bathroom and finally understood a little about Gemma Patrick.

The bedroom was almost as high-end as the bathroom, once Lisbon really looked at it. The dresser and headboard was made of solid real cherry wood, the warm red tones distinctive. A matching simple but elegant vanity was near the bay window with a window seat. Gemma's rumpled pale gold comforter and a carelessly tossed pillow gave evidence of the woman's restless dreams. The walk-in closet door was ajar, revealing a truly impressive collection of sturdy jeans and work boots sprinkled with more normal clothing choices.

Lisbon found herself drifting around the bedroom, looking at the private world of Gemma Patrick. The rest of the house was to be lived in, but this bedroom was the heart. She looked at the pictures on the walls, marveling at the photos of the life of Patrick Jane, laughing and holding the athletic woman who was once his wife, gazing at a carefree little blond girl in curls. Lisbon, like Cho, had noted the lack of family photos on the walls and realized it was because they were all here in the bedroom.

These images of Jane showed a carefree, happy man Lisbon had never met, but somehow thought she might not have liked much. He seemed arrogant and slick, instead of the tempered confidence Lisbon knew in him now. Gemma appeared in many pictures, obviously cozy and very much a part of the little family. Lisbon felt a little knot in her stomach loosen as she realized that Gemma was what was left of Patrick Jane's family, his previous life, and not something more….intimate. Although she quickly suppressed the thought and shoved it out of her mind, she wondered why it mattered so much.

One large frame held a portrait instead of a photo, of a dark woman who looked like Gemma. This woman's black hair was streaked with silver and small crescent scar on one temple as she slept peacefully in a field of flowers, and wore a translucent yellow stone pendant. Lisbon continued to drift before she paused at one frame in particular, a wedding picture.

A young, maybe early twenties, Patrick Jane stood dressed in a pale untucked dress shirt and pants, barefoot on a beach somewhere, grinning like a mad man, his new wedding band sparkling. A woman in a loose, flowing white dress and pale yellow flowers in her hair stood in his arms, laughing up at him. A few older people dressed in various pastel colors stood smiling around them, and on Jane's right was a teenaged Gemma in light blue, her glinting black hair loose and flowing, showing off her own natural ringlets.

The sudden sound of her phone ringing sent her heart racing "Damn," she swore at herself before answering.

"Lisbon," she said.

"Morning, boss," came the light voice of Van Pelt. "I have some info on Doug Lehman for you."

"Great," Lisbon replied, and headed out, all business again. "What have you found?"

She closed the bedroom door behind her, and fleetingly wondered if she liked Gemma Patrick. She wanted too, not only because she was somebody important to Jane. She sighed inwardly before paying attention to her agent again, and Agent Teresa Lisbon turned to face the day.


	7. Breakthrough

**Chapter 7-Breakthrough**

Lisbon walked out of the master bedroom, and caught the smell of bacon. Her stomach growled, and she followed her nose to the kitchen, only to find Cho cooking. She blinked. She didn't know why seeing Cho cooking was such a surprise, but it was. I mean, the man had to cook, right?

"Morning boss," Cho said simply.

"Morning to you too, Agent Julia Childs," Lisbon said with a little grin as she helped herself to coffee.

Cho gave one of his little half smiles, flashing a dimple, before pushing some of the bacon onto a plate to join the eggs and toast. He pushed the plate slightly toward his petite boss before turning back to the stove. "Gemma's note said there is OJ in the fridge."

Lisbon nodded, noting that the eggs were sunny side up, just the way she liked. "How'd you know how I like my eggs?" she asked before digging in. She felt the cool breeze come in from the open back door, heavy with the crisp scent of last night's rain, and found herself admiring the peacefulness of this house. It was nothing she could pin down, exactly, but somehow Gemma's home was one of the most soothing, safest places she had ever been.

Cho shrugged, fixing his own plate and joining her. "You always order them that way whenever we are on these overnights. Not that hard to figure out."

Rigsby came in the kitchen, rubbing his face to check his shave and sniffing loudly. "Great, breakfast!"

Cho and Lisbon shared an amused look as Rigsby piled his plate high. It never ceased to amaze them just how much the man ate. He was a big man, no doubt about it, but he remained fit and athletic despite his horrible dietary choices. Lisbon knew he worked out, but figured he must have one of those metabolisms that just seemed to ignore calories. She'd have been jealous, except she knew that the minute the man hit 40, it would probably up and vanish and leave him with a nasty surprise. She, however, will have had a lifetime of running and proper nutrition to deal with it. The smug thought made her green eyes twinkle.

Rigsby looked around while he ate. "Hey, where's Jane?" he asked around his toast.

"With Gemma," Lisbon replied, savoring the bacon. It was done perfectly, not too crisp but not underdone. Cho was a man of many surprises. "They left a note saying they went on a supply run. Apparently you are eating all her food," she said teasingly at her bear of an agent.

Rigsby got a look of confused innocence, and looked a little crestfallen even as he continued to shovel in his meal. Lisbon took a drink of her coffee while she watched her tall agent eat, then shook her head.

"Van Pelt called," Lisbon said finally. "Turns out Lehman has a record. Drug charges mostly. He just did 3 years for trafficking in marijuana and methamphetamines in Oregon, got out about a year and a half ago. What did you two find out about his movements here?"

"Lehman has been a regular up for about a year. This time he arrived about 4 days ago," Cho chimed in. "Got a camping pass, then was seen heading toward the Renton farm. He told a park ranger he wanted to take some of the horse trails. The ranger seemed to think he and Renton were friends. "

"Renton," Lisbon said thoughtfully. "What is his connection in all this?"

"Isn't it that odd his stable suddenly becomes profitable?" Rigsby asked. "I asked around a little yesterday, and people agreed with Gemma. Renton was always buying on credit, late with payments. But then nine months ago, he suddenly seemed to have all the money in the world."

"Interesting," a familiar voice said from the door. Jane stood smiling through the patio screen door, his arms full of grocery bags. "Can someone help me with the door?"

Lisbon bounced up and slid the screen back, and the blond man flashed a grateful smile as he walked past. "There's more in the truck." Lisbon was a little surprised at the speed of Cho standing up and going outside.

"So we have a stable owner suddenly flush with money, and a new friend who happens to be a drug dealer," Jane continued as he started to sort out the groceries he had brought in. Cho and Gemma appeared with full arms. Rigsby grabbed his plate, still chewing, and moved out of the way as they set their packages on the table.

"How did you know he was a drug dealer?" Lisbon asked.

"He looked like the type," Jane said with one of his careless shrugs and little smiles.

Gemma snorted softly as she tossed a box toward Jane, who placed it in a cupboard like he was right at home. She grabbed a few things from one of the bags, and strode silently out to put the items in another part of the house, leaving them to talk. She appeared a moment later with a smile, and kept sorting through the bags, listening to their conversation but not participating. She was still processing the release of last night. She and Jane had sorted out a lot of things in the middle of the night while they drove the 4 hours round-trip from the all-night Wal-Mart in Ukiah.

This was a chance to watch Jane and his friends interact. And Gemma marveled that the CBI agents where indeed his friends. She, better than anyone, knew what a giant pain in the ass Patrick Jane could be and how effectively he pushed people away. But somehow, these people had snuck in behind Jane's walls and defenses. He cared about them, and they cared about him. Jane actually let himself relax and play with these people, play the way a child would play with another child. It was perhaps the only happiness he felt anymore. They understood him, and even forgave him when his comments lashed out a little too cruelly. Even before Patrick Jane had been shattered, very few people had ever really understood him, much less fully accepted him, warts and all.

Jane teased Lisbon, who caught all his little jokes and comments even as she tried to keep him in check. Cho respected Jane, having a silent admiration of a man strong enough to try to make a difference in the world on his path of redemption and vengeance. Rigsby, who tried to learn from Jane and just plain liked him. She found herself wondering what the last member of their team, this Grace Van Pelt, would be like.

"I have to take the horse back to Renton's stable this morning," Gemma finally broke in. "I can show you the way."

Lisbon looked at the dark haired woman. She seemed more relaxed this morning, lighter. Something had changed, but Lisbon didn't know what. But that could wait for another time, Lisbon decided, and accepted the offer. They still had a dead man and a case to solve. The mystery of Gemma Patrick could wait for another time. The veterinarian headed out to load up the horse trailer, and Lisbon caught Jane's knowing smile, quickly gone when he saw Lisbon looking, when Gemma asked Cho to help her.

"No tricks," Lisbon ordered to Jane. "We are just going to talk to him."

"Won't need them," Jane replied easily, fixing himself some tea. "Renton did it."

"He did, did he?" Lisbon asked, half smiling. "Any proof?"

"He will confess," Jane replied confidently.

"Oh really?" Lisbon's half-grin challenged him. "Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that," Jane replied seriously. Then he smiled that insufferably charming smile, and Lisbon somehow felt she had lost an argument she didn't even realize she was having. Lisbon again found herself looking at the line of his back in the light grey vest over a pale blue shirt, sleeves rolled up. Her eyes drifted, just for a second, at the line of his tailored pants, before looking away. As Jane walked out into the living room with his tea, she called out the only thing she could possibly say.

"Oh, bite me."


	8. Predictible Endings

**Chapter 8- Predictable Endings**

"It's easy to saint the dead," Gemma was saying, "but Jane's wife? His wife was a good woman who knew him, and she still loved him. That's not to say she was perfect. She could be stubborn and impatient, she hated losing, and quite frankly, she couldn't cook."

"What?" Cho said.

Gemma smiled. "It's why Janey is such a good cook. If we wanted something edible, Janey had to cook it."

"What about you? Are you a good cook?" Cho asked a little too casually.

"I can be, but in a follow the cookbook kind of way," Gemma said, carefully taking a corner. Mindful of the loaded horse trailer she was pulling, her usual slightly carefree style of driving was tempered. "I don't have the flare, I just don't like it enough. His wife tried to teach me cooking when I was 14, maybe that's what went wrong."

Cho looked at the woman driving. "If she couldn't cook, why was she teaching you then?"

"Like I said, stubborn. She didn't like to admit she couldn't do something," Gemma laughed a little. "But she was a music teacher, she loved teaching. She saw me a lost lamb. It was kind of fun, at first, having someone pay attention to me like that. After a while, I just didn't want to hurt her feelings. She figured it out eventually."

"Figured what out?" Cho asked again. He kind of hating being reduced to just firing off questions, but it was his nature to be direct. Luckily, Gemma didn't seem to mind. She answered his questions easily and freely. He got the impression people didn't really just talk to her often. Her walls were high and strong, but something had happened in just the last 12 hours to lower them. Cho was mystified about the reason, but decided not to complain.

"That I didn't need a teacher," she said, tossing her braided hair back with one hand as she guided her truck and trailer down the steep hill confidently. Cho found himself following the dark hair. It was the blue black he usually only saw on Asian women, but with curls stretched out by the length of it. "I'm thinking Janey spilled the beans on that one,"

Cho clutched at the handle above the passenger side window as she came barreling down the corner. He could see she was being careful because of the horse trailer, but if this was careful, he was scared to experience normal. "Why would he do that?"

"Eh, probably didn't do it on purpose," Gemma replied. "But he was my guardian, so the school pestered him. Janey and his wife, they talked everything over. The school wanted me in all these advanced classes, and I wasn't playing along very well. They had to convince him to talk me into it."

"He was your guardian?" Cho asked in surprise, not quite sure how he felt about that tidbit. Gemma just gave him a sideways look and smiled, before the truck suddenly decelerated in front of a faded yellow farm house. Cho felt the hit when he suddenly was thrown against the seatbelt, and let out a little grunt. He winced when he heard the groan of the trailer. The dark eyed woman was almost as bad as Jane, and this was her being careful!

"We are here," Gemma said unnecessarily as she hopped out of the truck. Cho let himself out a little slower, trying to bring his heart rate back under control. Once he did step out, he saw Gemma talking at the back of the horse trailer to a tall, skinny man in jeans and tennis shoes and the black SUV with the rest of the team pulling up.

"Rigsby, how can you possibly be hungry again already?" Lisbon was asking her tall agent with an air of amused disbelief as they exited the vehicle. "There are a bears who eat less than you did this morning!"

Rigsby gave a sheepish smile. He didn't get a chance to answer as the skinny man in tennis shoes waved for someone in the barn to come help Gemma, and headed toward the CBI agents.

"Can I help you?" the skinny man said, his face a little wary.

"Agent Lisbon, California Bureau of Investigations," Lisbon smoothly broke in, and flashed her badge. "This is Agent Rigsby, and Patrick Jane. Are you Jack Renton?"

"Yes," Renton replied. His eyes starting to dart around, and Jane's gaze settled on him with a little knowing smile. Sometimes it was too easy.

"We'd like to talk to you about Doug Lehman," Lisbon continued. She and Rigsby moved to face Renton, while Cho came up behind, flanking him. Jane's attention seemed to drift as he looked around before his gaze settled on Gemma as she and a hired hand of Renton's got the horse out of the trailer. He noted the tidy dressings on the hindquarters, before he continued to look around the property.

"Mr. Renton, can you tell us the nature of your relationship with Doug Lehman," Lisbon asked directly.

"Doug Lehman? None really," Renton replied. "Never knew him."

"That isn't what the park ranger said," Lisbon said in a tone a shade less friendly than before. Liars really irritated her. "He seemed to think you were friends."

"Friends? No, not friends," the skinny man said quickly. Too quickly.

"He said you had been up on the mountain trails 5 or 6 times in the last 6 months," Cho added. "Overnight trips, all of them."

Renton started at Cho speaking behind him. Jane noticed he had started to sweat a little, although the morning sun wasn't that hot yet. His colleagues also noted it, consciously or unconsciously. He saw their stances change as Renton got more high strung, preparing to run. Jane really did admire the CBI agents' aptitude, enjoyed how they responded to a suspect.

Jane quietly broke away and rejoined Gemma when she came out of the barn, horse safely returned to its proper home. She smiled at him when he took her elbow and guided her past the trailer and turned her to face the CBI agents. Renton was becoming more twitchy and the agent's questions less friendly. The interrogation was progressively becoming more hostile.

"60 seconds before he runs," Jane commented as they leaned against the vehicle, watching the show.

"20 seconds," Gemma replied quickly. "And on 3…..2……1…"

As her countdown ended, Renton broke. He tried to go left, only to find Rigsby there, then dodged right and slipped between Cho and Lisbon. It didn't last long as Cho reached out and grabbed Renton's arm. It slowed and turned him slightly off balance, allowing Lisbon tip him over and Risgby to finish bringing him down and handcuff him. Teamwork at its best, Jane thought with pride.

"It was an accident, I swear!" Jack Renton babbled as he struggled slightly against the CBI agents. "I swear, I didn't mean to kill him! But he wouldn't let me stop! I wanted out!"

Lisbon turned, and started to look around with a little frown for her wandering consultant. She saw Cho calling Sheriff Hollins to come lock up Jack Renton, before she spotted Jane by the horse trailer. He had a wide smile on his face as he fished out and held a twenty dollar bill up in the air. Gemma was closing the horse trailer, then strode casually past and snatched the waving twenty with a little smirk and a wink at Lisbon. Lisbon could only sigh, and felt herself smile a little. A thought then crossed Teresa Lisbon's mind, and she didn't know if she should laugh or cry.

Just what she needed, a second Jane in the world.


	9. Teamwork

**Chapter 9-Teamwork**

Gemma Patrick wasn't really sure what prompted her to meet the CBI agents back to the little Mina jail. She thought it might be curiosity about what they and Jane did, but there was restlessness in her as well. It wasn't like she really had that much to do, she reflected. Her veterinarian practice had never been high volume, and the new practice that had opened up in Derby, the village about 20 miles east, had cut into even that. There wasn't really enough business in these parts to support two such practices, and since she was familiar and not that picky about late payments, she had figured she would win out in time. But in the meantime, she had more free time than usual.

After a quick trip to leave the horse trailer, Gemma found herself pulling up the little square building that served as both sheriff's office and local jail. Opening the truck door, she was again aware of the quiet of her little town. But where it had always been soothing and comfortable, today she found it oddly eerie. Funny that she should suddenly be missing the city, she thought as she entered the building.

Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative dimness inside. Scanning, she quickly spotted Rigsby getting a cup of coffee and helping himself to one of the stale cookies. She walked up the tall man with a friendly smile, pretending not to see the surprised look of Claire, the secretary, as she walked past. To say Gemma was known for her fiery temper and brusque manner was an understatement. Rigsby lifted his cup in greeting as he munched on his cookie.

"Hey, Rigsby," Gemma said.

"Hey, Gemma," Rigsby replied happily, making Claire stare harder as the complete stranger seemed positively friendly with the town harridan. "Jane's helping Lisbon interview Renton."

Gemma looked past Rigsby and spotted the trim, athletic build of Cho's back as he and Sheriff Hollins looked through what appeared to be a one-way mirror. She made her way over, Rigsby trailing behind her. As she slid near the wall to get an unobtrusive view inside the interrogation room, her shoulder brushed up against Cho's, and she smiled into his eyes. Cho just nodded in acknowledgement, but Gemma caught the friendliness in his gaze despite his overtly impassive expression. She rather liked the subtly of emotion in the man, so different from her own occasionally volatile nature.

"Hey, you can't be here," Hollins started to say, until he caught the dark eyes of Gemma. A glint of her rather notorious nature shown in her eyes, and Hollins gave in with a wave. He decided if the CBI agents didn't seem to care, he wasn't going to rile up the unusually placid woman.

"Tell us about your relationship with Doug Lehman," Lisbon was asking the suspect.

Jack Renton sat in a folding chair, his hands handcuffed in front of him and rubbing his fingertips together at the feel of the fingerprinting powder. Lisbon sat across from him, in control and rather intimidating for such a petite frame. A non-descript deputy guarded the door, and Jane stood leaning against the wall in one corner, watching Renton attentively.

"Didn't have one," Renton mumbled, obviously lying. Lisbon's mouth tightened slightly.

"That isn't what you were saying when we arrested you," Lisbon pointed out patiently. "Something about an accident. Wanting to get out. Get out of what, exactly, Mr. Renton? Why did you try to run from us?"

Jane tilted his head as he watched Renton's eyes dart around the room and his fingers start to twitch. This man is either really guilty or a really bad liar, Jane thought, before deciding it was both. His blue eyes narrowed slightly as an idea floated through his mind.

Renton's light brown eyes refused to look up, and he pursed his lips in mulish stubbornness. "I have nothing to say."

Lisbon sighed, and was almost ready to leave when Jane started talking.

"Sure you do. Must have been hard, not making any money on the stable," Jane said, moving from the wall and leaning near the nervous prisoner. "I mean, it was your dream. Your wife, she resented being hauled into the middle of nowhere. And then, to have it all fail. No money, going deeper and deeper into debt."

Jane pulled at a chair and sat next to Renton. His voice had become low, intent and soothing as Renton finally looked into the blond man's face.

"Everything seemed to be falling apart, huh?" Jane asked sympathetically. "You were just about to give up, when Doug Lehman showed up. Bet he hired you for a tour up on that mountain. And he seemed like such a nice guy, you started talking about your problems."

Renton shook his head, but continued to stare at Jane. "No. I didn't know him!"

"Sure you did," Jane continued, looking briefly at the quietly watching Lisbon, a little smile playing on his lips. "No money, angry wife, dreams going up in smoke. You couldn't talk to any of the people around here, what would they know about losing your dreams? How hard you had to work your whole life, just for one little piece of dignity. You grew up with nothing, less than nothing. All you ever wanted was to have _something_! Then Doug, good old easygoing Doug, he came up with a sure fire idea on how to make some money."

Renton's lips parted and his breathing quickened a little. Lisbon leaned forward, her voice gentle and persuasive. "Mr. Renton, make things easier on yourself. Just tell us what happened."

"What was it?" Jane smoothly continued, a seamless counterpoint to Lisbon's continued pressure. "Coke? Meth? Marijuana?"

Renton started a little at the last one, and Jane leaned back with a wide grin. "Ah ha! Pot! The two of you were growing pot up there on the mountain! Then Doug would sell it to his contacts back in Oregon." Jane leaned back, a satisfied smile in his eyes. "I mean, it is perfect. No one goes way off the trails, so who is to know? There aren't enough park rangers to thoroughly monitor the range, and really, why would they?"

"Marijuana? Is that true, Mr. Renton?" Lisbon asked. "Did Lehman want to up the product line, maximize your sales? But you wanted out, and he would let you leave. Did he threaten to expose you?"

Renton just looked away, his face going stony. Jane's eyes narrowed and he and Lisbon exchanged looks. Silence stretched for a moment until Jane spoke again.

"You keep saying you didn't have a relationship with Lehman," Jane said slowly, gazing intently at Renton. Something clicked. "Your wife, she's an attractive woman. And Doug, he isn't half-bad looking."

Lisbon was startled at the look of barely repressed fury that suddenly appeared on Jack Renton's face. "Mr. Renton? Were Doug Lehman and your wife having an affair?"

The skinny man glared at his handcuffed hands. Jane stood up and moved behind Lisbon, watching their suspect. "Sure she was. Doug was a younger man, handsome in a roguish sort of way, and seemed to have money. Money you didn't have, until he showed up. She didn't care about the risks, the sacrifices you were making for your life together! Only that Doug seemed to have everything, and you were just the loser she was stuck married too." Jane paused dramatically, eyes narrowed at the increasingly furious Jack Renton, then pointed and dealt the final blow. "And I bet he was better in bed. Really knocked her socks off."

Renton let out a snarl and lunged at the consultant, who conveniently stood just out of reach and leapt backward as Lisbon and the sheriff's deputy restrained the infuriated man.

"That bitch!" Renton all but screamed. "I always did everything for her! Never myself! And when I finally think I get something good for myself, she starts banging that bastard Lehman! Yeah, I took him up there on the mountain, and he got snide with me. Said my wife was going to leave me, take my stable and all my horses! My stable, the one I did all the work for!"

"So once you were up on that mountain, you were alone with him," Lisbon pressed the advantage. "Did he admit to the affair when you confronted him?"

"He wanted to do more, plant more seeds," Renton growled. "I told him no, we had to stop. I told him I knew about him and Sally, and he had to leave and not come back. He just laughed at me. Said that if I didn't go along with him, Sally was going to call the cops and show them the bail of weed that was up in the barn. I'd go to jail, and then she and Doug would just keep the operation going together."

"When did you hit him?" Lisbon asked calmly, her green eyes intent. Jane leaned against the far wall and waited.

Renton gave a frustrated sigh. "We were headed back down the trails. There was this tree branch that was almost off the tree. I tore it off, rode up behind him and hit him on the head as hard as I could. Bastard never even saw it coming. He hit the ground, and his horse bolted before I could catch it. When I looked back, Doug wasn't moving. I just got the hell out of there."

"Thank you," Lisbon said finally and stood up. "I think we are done here. Mr. Renton, you are now under arrest for the murder of Doug Lehman. Deputy, you can take him back to his cell. The state troopers will come pick him up in the morning."

Cho and Rigsby exchanged a pleased look as Lisbon and Jane exited the interrogation room. Gemma caught Jane's eyes and they smiled at each other. Jane walked up to her and, arm in arm, led her out of the room. Lisbon watched them go for a moment, before pulling herself back to the task at hand.

"You guys, go pick up Sally Renton," Lisbon ordered Cho and Rigsby. "Sheriff, we will need a warrant to search the Renton stables." Hollis nodded, and the three men headed off. Lisbon opened up her phone and called the home office to inform Minelli, and turned to keep Jane and Gemma in sight. Jane had guided the tall woman toward the coffee machine as they talked.

"Well, what do you think?" Jane asked as he poured some bitter coffee. He would have preferred his usual tea, but beggars couldn't be choosers. It was a very limited selection in the small sheriff's office.

"Color me impressed," Gemma replied. "You two work well together."

Jane shrugged. "We all work well together. It's a good team."

Gemma noted the oblique dodge of his comment. She decided to let it go. "Well, what happens now?"

"Cho and Rigsby will arrest Sally Renton. We will search the property once we get the warrant. The state troopers will come and transfer them to Sacremento, and the state's attorney will deal with it," Jane replied.

"There might even be federal charges," Lisbon said as she walked up. "If Jane is right, Lehman and Renton were moving drugs across state lines into Oregon. We still have a lot of work to do today."

"Of course I'm right," Jane said with confidence. He turned and faced the small person of Lisbon, and watched her face as he sipped his sour coffee. Her lovely green eyes seemed to sparkle in satisfaction as she gazed back. He loved the look on her face when they closed a case. It had become a kind of bonus in his work. "So, any good pizza in this town?"

Gemma looked at him. "Pizza?"

"Yes, it's a tradition," Jane explained. "Case closed pizza."

"Ah," Gemma said and thought about it. "Not really. There's a little diner, but Bethy isn't open this early yet. And she doesn't really do pizza everyday, although you could always ask."

"A diner not open for breakfast?" Lisbon asked. "What's up with that?"

"It's Bethy," Gemma said with a shrug. "She's 73 years old and refuses to retire. Her kids aren't interested in taking over. She opens for lunch and dinner because most people around here eat breakfast at home anyway, and no one wants the old dear to have to get up at 3 am just to feed the 2 people too lazy to make their own eggs."

"So what are you going to do for the rest of today?" Jane asked Gemma. He realized he had practically no idea what she did with her time up here, or what her life was like.

Gemma just shrugged. "Not much today. I'll go open my office, I guess. We are doing inventory this week, only taking emergency appointments. I'd better get going before Charlie decides to start calling me incessantly on my cell phone. He finds it creepy to be in the clinic all alone." Gemma smiled at the quirks of her assistant.

Jane turned to Lisbon, and unleashed one of his charming smiles. "I'm sure you guys have loads of boring paperwork to do. Cho will have Sally Renton talking before too long. I will just go keep myself entertained with Sparky,"

Lisbon felt her mouth twitch in annoyed amusement. "Fine. Whatever. God forbid you help with the actual work." Her statement had the ring of a ritual complaint to Gemma's ears as she and Jane strolled out the door.

Lisbon just sighed to herself. Minelli kept telling her to control her man, but Jane was like a force of nature. You could try to predict and prepare, but in the end, he did what he wanted anyway. Lisbon liked rules, obeyed the law, but Jane had a habit of ignoring what was inconvenient. It was annoying as hell, but Lisbon had to admit it was effective, and even a little fun to watch.

_Damn him_, Lisbon thought fondly, and then back to work.


	10. Mistaken Failures

**Author's Note:** _Still going strong ;) I have changed a few things in the preceding chapters and am updating them as I go. Mostly little stuff, like time line and locations to match the real world a little better. If you catch a glaring error, I would appreciate the head's up. And again, thank you for the wonderful reviews!_

**Chapter 10-Mistaken Failures**

"So, why are you really coming with me," Gemma asked the man in her passenger seat bluntly. "Watching me shuffle papers and count cat pills will be far less entertaining than Lisbon and her police work."

"Can't I just want to spend time with you?" Jane asked, his blue eyes wide. Gemma gave one of her little snorts and eyed him. Jane realized he had missed her little snorts and gimlet stares. He had just missed her, and hadn't realized how much until he found her again. "Okay, guess not. Look, we've lived different lives for five years, and I'm curious."

"Curious?" Gemma replied. "You know everything there is to know about me, Janey. You've known me my whole life."

Jane shrugged, and held the handhold over the window tighter as Gemma's truck whipped a corner. "Not really, Gemma, not since you moved up here six years ago. To be honest, I've never really tried to understand why you came up here. But I'm trying too."

Gemma was silent for a moment. Jane saw too much, more than she did sometimes. "And what have you decided?"

"You came up here to connect," Jane said, looking at Gemma. His eyes were shadowed as he looked at this woman he had known since she was a little child stealing his watch and wallet. "But I have a question for you."

"Do you want the real answer?" Gemma asked in return. Jane nodded.

They were too alike, and both had a talent for brutal honesty they had learned to temper with each other to avoid unnecessary hurt. Of all the people in the world, they never bothered to lie to each other. Omit, yes, occasionally mislead, but never out and out lie. But to give a "real answer" was to not soften the answer, and never given without warning. It had taken Jane's wife almost a year to start to understand their private language, made of code words and ritual gestures that became a communication shortcut. Whole conversations could occur without anyone else the wiser. Between two people who could read each other so well, words and sentences became a hassle, so they had simply eliminated the chaff.

"Where did I fail you?" Jane asked after taking a deep breath. "I've made so many mistakes with my life, and they have cost me everything. They cost my wife and child even more, cost you nearly everything too. But I can't quite figure out where I went wrong with you."

"Who said you failed me?" Gemma asked in surprise as they pulled up to the clinic near her home. "Most would say you succeeded. I'm a former pick pocket, con artist and car thief who now has a graduate degree and her own business. I was even asked to sit on the county tourism board last year. You have to admit, I seemed to have turned out alright."

Jane hopped out of her truck, and followed her inside the office. It was a small, square building painted off white with a mint green trim. The large painted sign outside proclaimed Gemma's name and business to the world. As they made their way inside the front door, Jane spotted a stall attached to the side for large animals, set up to allow easy unloading. It looked like a custom built set-up, and he suspected Gemma had designed it.

The lobby was simple and functional, with comfortable and easily cleaned chairs and pictures of random animals on the wall. A large aquarium filled with brightly colored fish burbled on the far wall, and Jane could see small fingerprints on it from children despite the sign forbidding touching. A few product advertisements were sprinkled on the tables, and the strong, peculiar scent of pet cleanser filled the office.

"Sparky, you went to an expensive, private school in Malibu. Your friends were the children of movie stars and the ridiculously wealthy," Jane pointed out. "You could have done anything you wanted, yet here you are, living alone and working as the underpaid veterinarian in the boondocks. And you aren't happy."

Gemma blinked. "Janey, where is this coming from?"

Jane caught Gemma's arm and turned her to face him. He looked deep into her eyes, and put his hands on either side of her face. Gemma saw the look of concern and affection in his blue eyes as he pushed a few of the midnight curls back that had escaped her ponytail.

"You aren't happy," Jane said again.

Dark almond eyes met worried blue, and Gemma gave a small, sad smile. "Maybe not. But I'm not unhappy, either," she said as she gently slipped his hold.

Jane's lips narrowed, a flash of irritation in his eyes. Gemma saw it, and sighed as she walked away. "I'm not lying to you, so don't even start."

"I'm trying to understand," Jane called as he followed her into a small, lightly cluttered office. "Just help me understand, Sparky. Please."

Gemma sat at her desk, and looked into Jane's pleadingly innocent eyes. Her eyes flickered to the small loveseat across from her, and back. Jane took the hint, took off his jacket and sat heavily, waiting.

"The great Patrick Jane,"' Gemma started with a gentle smile. "Psychic to the stars, gifted stage performer, and charming as all hell." Jane shifted, looking away in embarrassment. "You are a self-made man, Janey. You have always ignored what got in the way, or changed the game to favor you."

"Before…."Gemma paused, before starting again. "Before we lost them both, you believed in nothing but yourself. Not God or religion, not social strictures or even simple human decency. None of it had any intrinsic value, except how you played it."

"I was an arrogant, egotistical and vain man," Jane agreed softly, guilt haunting his expression. He ran a hand through his curly blond hair, and swallowed. Gemma waited until she caught his gaze again.

"You were also loyal, kind and generous to the people who cared about you," Gemma continued. "That's what your wife saw in you. Because even when you were at your worst, we never doubted that you loved us with your whole being."

Gemma turned her chair and looked out the window, silent. The silence dragged on, but Jane just tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he waited.

"I knew about the money, you know," Gemma finally said, ignoring Jane's surprised look. "The money you sent to my mother from the time I was 8 until she died. There was no signature, but I knew it was you. I had to take it before she found it, hide enough for food and rent while she drank the rest away. I was so grateful, and so bitter about it. Grateful that you sent it and so very bitter that you had to."

"I couldn't let…" Jane started to say, before Gemma waved him quiet.

"I know. Believe me, I know," Gemma interrupted. "I tell you this because you doubt yourself. You have been taking care of me for almost as long as I can remember, and you didn't have too. But what is wrong with me, it started long before you even met me. This is one fault you cannot claim, because it isn't yours."

"What does that mean?" Jane asked gently.

"Until I came up here, I spent my whole life as a reflection of those around me," the dark eyed woman continued. "My mother taught me to steal for her. Your father pretended I didn't exist. My aunt thought of me as a trouble maker, and I stole a car. When I came to you, you expected a co-conspirator, and so I was. Your wife got the sister she missed. That expensive private school saw a genius whiz kid. Those friends? They wanted a rebel, different enough to be exciting, but similar enough to not be threatening. And I pleased you all. But I didn't please me."

Jane leaned forward. "I'm sorry. I didn't see it."

Gemma waved off the apology. "How could you? I didn't even know I was doing it. But you did the right thing by me, Janey. You let me go. I didn't understand why I was pulling away, not really. But you still let me go, and made sure I knew I could always come back."

The morning sun caught Gemma's glossy black hair, with just a hint of blue. Her coal black eyes were serious, but also affectionate in the look she gave to the older man sitting across from her. "Maybe I'm not happy. But I'm content here, I can actually feel like I have filler and am more than a hollow shell. I have hated, _hated_, these last five years without you in my life, Janey. But it also meant I had to take a good, hard look at myself, and figure out what I wanted."

"You didn't fail me, Patrick Jane. You saved me," Gemma said with a bright, sunny laugh."Can't argue with that, now can you?"


	11. The Math is Wrong

**Chapter 11—the Math is Wrong**

Two hours after Jane and Gemma left, Lisbon was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair in a small conference room and staring up at the ceiling with a forgotten cup of coffee in her hands. Her green eyes were keeping track of a small brown spider making its way across the cracked surface, until it slipped into one and vanished. Something wasn't adding up, and Lisbon could feel a tension headache coming on.

"Hey, boss," Rigsby said as he and Cho banged into the conference room. The sudden noise startled Lisbon, and she gave a sheepish glare to her two agents. Risgby, was of course, unwrapping a sandwich and had a bag of chips under one arm. Cho had two sandwiches, and slid one over to his boss.

"Any word on Sally Renton?" Lisbon asked as she looked at her potential lunch, trying to decide if eating would make her headache better or worse.

"No. Sherriff asked the Ukiah police to keep an eye out for her," Cho replied as he sat down. "Told them her husband was in custody, and we were looking to notify her."

"Sheriff Hollins also set some of his deputies to watch the house," Rigsby added between bites. "We will just have to wait for her to come back from her shopping trip, I guess."

Lisbon sighed, and started to unwrap her own meal without saying a word. Cho and Rigsby traded a look. A pensive boss was not a happy boss, and with no Jane around to distract her, that could be bad.

"What's wrong?" Cho finally asked. "We caught the guy, right? Jack Renton confessed, case closed."

Lisbon took a dainty bite of her sandwich, and her green eyes were thoughtful. "Did we? Something is wrong here, and I can't put my finger on it."

"We've been going over the forensic reports, everything adds up," Rigsby said. "It's all consistent with Renton's story."

"Something just isn't right. Let's go over it again," Lisbon said. She put her sandwich to the side and grimaced at her cold coffee. She got up and went to replace it with new liquid as she started to talk.

"Ok, so we have Jack Renton. He and Doug Lehman are up on the mountain with their own personal marijuana farm hidden on the back trails," Lisbon said, leaning against the counter in the conference room. Her dark form-fitting red shirt, low slung jeans and sensible shoes made her seem soft in the noontime sunlight streaming through the partially closed blinds of the conference room. It was a mistake people only made once.

"Renton figures out his wife and Lehman are having an affair," Rigsby stated. "And when Lehman starts pushing for a bigger operation, Renton tries to chicken out. Tells Lehman he knows about the affair, and while they are headed back down the trail, they get into an argument. Lehman threatens Renton, who grabs a tree branch and-_bang-_hits Lehman."

"Lehman falls off his horse, breaking his neck," Cho chimed in. "Renton panics, and leaves the body while he runs."

Lisbon sipped her coffee. "What does the autopsy report say again?"

"Why can't we get autopsy reports this fast in Sacramento?" Cho grumbled.

"They have one coroner for the county up here, Cho," Lisbon replied with an amused smile. "This is probably the most interesting thing to happen in years, so it got priority."

Rigsby rifled through the papers. "Here it is. Uh, C2 vertebral fracture with subluxation of C2 onto C3 causing shearing of the spinal cord at the C2 level, resulting in paralysis and death from respitory failure. Soft tissue injury to the back of the head, from a blunt force injury. Traces of tree bark and soil in the wound."

"What else?" Lisbon asked intently, her brow furrowed as she tried to track down her unease.

"Some fresh abrasions and contusions on his abdomen consistent with soft tissue injury. Non-displaced hairline fracture of his left zygomatic arch, and contusions and edema around his left eye," Rigsby read off.

"Sounds like he was in a fight," Cho said, and then bit into his sandwich again. "Gave him a black eye."

"But Renton didn't mention a fight," Rigsby pointed out.

"Did any of you notice Renton's hands?" Lisbon asked suddenly.

The three agents thought a moment, before Cho spoke up. "You know, his knuckles did look a little banged up. I just put it down to working with his hands in a stable, but what if they were from a fight?"

"With Lehman?" Rigsby asked. "They could have gotten into a fight before Renton killed him."

"But then why not tell us?" Cho asked. "If Renton said Lehman attacked him in during a physical altercation, then he could make a case for self defense."

"By hitting him on the back of the head during a chase?" Lisbon asked scornfully.

Cho just shrugged. "Didn't say it was a good case."

"If they did get in a fight, why?" Lisbon asked as she sat down and started picking at her food.

"Over the affair?" Rigsby asked.

"Hmm, maybe," Lisbon replied, thoughtfully nibbling on her sandwich. "Okay, I'm Renton and my wife is cheating on me and I know it."

Lisbon caught Cho's faint smirk, and gave him a quelling glare.

"So why I am I going up horseback riding with him to check on our pot supply? That doesn't make sense," Lisbon continued. "When did the coroner say he got those bruises?"

Rigsby checked the piece of paper. "Says 5-6 hours before time of death."

"Wait," Cho said, "5-6 hours before he was killed? Then he would have to have gotten into the fight with Renton hours before they went up on that mountain."

"But if they fought, why would Lehman and Renton go up there together later?" Rigsby asked. "I wouldn't go anywhere with a guy who just beat me up for sleeping with his wife."

"Makes sense," Lisbon acknowledged. "But we know they both went up that hill. If they did that, then Lehman probably didn't get in a fight with Renton before he was killed. So who was Lehman fighting with?"

"Boss," Rigsby broke in. "Why does it matter? I mean, we have opportunity, motive, means and a confession."

"Because there is something up with Lehman. He gets the crap kicked out of him just hours before he was murdered?" Lisbon answered. "Maybe it's nothing, but I certainly don't want to miss something. Cho, you and Rigsby go back over Lehman's movements. We need to find out who else Lehman had a beef with."

"On it, boss," the two men said together, and filed out of the conference room. Their petite boss watched them bicker about who got to drive through the conference room window, and hid her fond expression. She had a good team.

Lisbon turned in her uncomfortable plastic chair and peered out the window. Lush greenery and tall trees with a clear and perfect blue sky spread itself out before her. It was beautiful up here, she admitted to herself. Quiet and pretty, like every post card in the tourist traps they passed on the way up. She could see the attraction, but admitted to herself that she would quickly go crazy away from civilization.

Idly, Lisbon found herself wondering what Jane was up too. Not that she would admit it out loud, but she rather missed his impish wit and flare for the dramatic when it wasn't around. What she would admit out loud, and probably would, was that her team was perfectly capable of functioning without the charming consultant.

Lisbon could picture Jane's face if she told him. She saw in her mind his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and a sideways smile just for her at the implied joke that he was useless. He would find it amusing.

She certainly did.


	12. Promises

**Thicker than Red Water**

**Chapter 12--Promises**

Dusk fell gently, the light gradually turning softer as it faded away. Lisbon signed the last form with relief, and wondered if she would have chosen to be a cop again if she had really understood just how much paperwork it generated. Massaging her hand, she admitted ruefully she probably would. Paperwork be damned, she lived to put the bad guys away.

She pulled out her cell phone, and called her missing consultant. Rigsby and Cho had no luck finding out where Lehman had gotten into a fight, and Sally Renton was still missing in action. Most frustrating, the warrant to search the Renton properties still hadn't come through. So they were going to have to impose on Gemma Patrick's hospitality at least one more night.

"Lisbon," Patrick Jane's warm voice answered the phone, "how nice of you to call."

Lisbon felt her lips twitch in an involuntary smile. "Jane, listen, can you ask Gemma if we could impose for one more night?"

"Don't worry about it, Lisbon," Jane replied easily. "I asked about that hours ago when you didn't call at lunch. She said it was fine. I think she just wants to see more of Cho."

Lisbon let herself laugh after she hung up, and got into the deputy's squad car. Risgby and Cho still had the SUV, so Hollins had volunteered one of his deputies to drop her off at Gemma Patrick's home. Luckily, everything in the little town of Mina was in relatively close distance, and she was stepping out of the car at the blue house before she knew it.

The light was still fading, and she could smell rain pregnant in the air. Evening was turning everything dim and mysterious, and Lisbon kind of liked it, but still missed the city. Jane was sitting on the front porch stairs, sipping his ever present tea. He had taken off his suit coat at some point, and unbuttoned the vest. His sleeves were rolled up and he rested his elbows on his knees as he watched Lisbon approach him.

Jane liked to watch Lisbon walk. It was not a typical woman's walk, but more of a confident stroll that was almost, but not quite, male. Her small frame belied the strength and power she could summon, and he knew professional football players with a weaker tackle. She was a rising star in a very male profession, and she had done it without losing her essential femininity. Her easy assurance still impressed Jane, and he liked that she really didn't feel the need to out macho the men around her, and still remained very much a woman. She just let the fact that she was the best fill the air around her, as subtle as her favorite cinnamon-laced perfume. Grace Van Pelt was lucky to have such a mentor, and already Jane could see Lisbon's influence on the younger woman. All in all, he was glad he was on Lisbon's team.

"So, what's wrong?" Jane asked, letting his blue eyes fill with the sight of her over his cup.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" Lisbon asked, half playfully. She put one leg up on the bottom step, and looked at the blond man. His eyes held that ever present amusement and the rising breeze ruffled his blond locks a little.

"Because if you were satisfied, we'd be in Sacramento right now," Jane replied. "So something has roused the mighty Agent Lisbon's suspicions."

Lisbon smiled, and brushed her light black hair from her face. Her green eyes clouded for a moment, and Jane saw the small furrow over the bridge of her nose she got when she was intent. "I don't know, but we are missing something."

Unlike her agents, Jane just nodded in acceptance. He trusted her instincts almost as much as he trusted his own. If Teresa Lisbon thought something wasn't right, then something wasn't right.

"We will figure it out," Jane said confidently. "Where are Cho and Rigsby?"

"They should be along soon. Looks like Lehman got into a fight several hours before he went up on that mountain and got killed," Lisbon explained as the two made for the door. "I sent them to try to track it down."

"Ah," Jane replied. As they entered, Jane turned and put his finger to his lips to caution her to silence, then pointed at the couch. Gemma Patrick lay sleeping on one side of the blue couch, her long, jean clad legs thrown over one arm of the couch and her bare feet hovering in the air. Her breathing was long and slow, obviously deep in slumber. Her long, dark hair flowed out from her loose pony tail, and one arm was curled under her head. Lisbon saw her shift a little on the couch, and noted that her toes appeared to be painted an iridescent purple. Lisbon smiled at the unique color choice, and quietly followed Jane into the kitchen.

Jane had apparently been busy cooking again, as a large pot was on the stove, and the sink half full of dishes he started to put into the dishwasher. Lisbon helped herself to a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker, savoring the rich flavor before settling at the table. The two settled into a companionable silence.

When the former fake psychic had started on the team, Lisbon had found his probing looks and uncanny comments disturbing. Cho had taken it all in stride, and before too long was willing to go along with Jane's more outlandish schemes, and Rigsby was just too genial to not like the blond man. Lisbon, however, had found herself tensing. She knew his history and tragic past from reading his file, but sympathy was only willing to go so far. His blue eyes saw too much, more than Lisbon wanted them too. She wondered when exactly she had quit trying to hide, and just relaxed in his presence.

"Penny for your thoughts," Jane asked after a while. He had finished with the dishes, and turned the dishwasher on. He had refilled his tea, and his lightening quick mind had settled on the only thing interesting in the room.

"You're the all seeing one, you tell me," Lisbon replied. Jane lips twitched in amusement, and he contemplated the woman. He sipped at his tea again, and tilted his head as he studied her.

"You are wondering when you finally gave up and relaxed around him," a voice said from the doorway. Lisbon whirled to see Gemma standing there, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her dark black hair was lightly tangled in its pony tail, and she padded barefoot to the fridge and took out a bottle of soda. Gemma caught Lisbon's look of uneasy surprise, and laughed softly. "Don't worry, Agent Lisbon, everyone wonders it at some point. It's like he has pheromones or something. It just kind of happens for no apparent reason. It's a trick I never mastered."

Lisbon felt herself start to blush, and both Gemma and Jane gave identical delighted grins, which only made her blush harder. The worst part of it was that Lisbon wasn't really sure why she was so embarrassed.

Gemma finally took pity on the furiously blushing woman, and slipped on some shoes and headed outside. "I'm sorry, Agent Lisbon. It's an irritating habit we both have. Janey, I have to check the barn. There is supposed to be a big thunderstorm tonight."

Jane nodded absently, still delighted at Lisbon's mortification. Lisbon couldn't stand it anymore, and darted after the other woman to escape a pair of wickedly twinkling blue eyes.

Outside the scent of moisture in the air was heavier. Off to the west, Lisbon spotted dark clouds rolling slowly towards them. Being a city girl, Lisbon wasn't really sure how long it would be, but thought maybe another hour before the storm settled overhead. She trailed after the copper skinned woman and slipped into the barn with her.

"Agent Lisbon," Gemma said in surprise when she entered. The tall, dark woman was opening up a wooden bin, and paused to look at the smaller woman.

"I thought I could help," Lisbon said a little shyly. "And please, call me Teresa. You are putting us up and all, it's the least I could do."

"Alright," Gemma gave in gracefully, choosing not to probe. "There isn't a whole lot to do. Could you refill the cat food here, while I go up and check the shutters."

Lisbon spotted the large plastic bowls and saw a few furry friends peeking at her from various places around the barn. She opened the wooden bin, and used the scoop she found to fill the bowls as Gemma scampered up a ladder. Lisbon heard a thump, then a little rattle and when she turned around, she saw Gemma sitting at the top of the loft, thoughtfully watching her with a little smile. Lisbon gazed back, and decided to steal a page from Patrick's book.

"Penny for your thoughts," Lisbon asked. Gemma blinked, and then started laughing.

"You, my dear Agent Lisbon, have been spending too much time with a certain blue-eyed man," Gemma said as she slid down the ladder.

Once on the ground, Gemma leaned against one of the empty stalls and crossed her arms. "I was just thinking how glad I am that Janey found you. All of you."

"What?" Lisbon asked, confused. She hadn't expected that honest an answer so fast.

"Sorry," Gemma apologized again. "I've startled you. Another bad habit, I suppose."

"No, no. It's okay," Lisbon said quickly. Despite being so similar to Jane, Gemma wasn't quite as predictable to Lisbon yet. If you could call the walking catastrophe looking for a place to happen that was Jane predictable. "I suppose I have been spending too much time with Jane. He does tend to rub off on you. Why are you are happy he found us?"

"Yes, he does rub off on you," Gemma agreed. "I'm happy he found you because he needs people, people he trusts. He keeps himself so closed in now, but Jane needs people. He thrives with an audience, feeds off of interpersonal interaction. Patrick Jane is a classic extrovert in every way."

"He doesn't trust us," Lisbon said with a little frown. "He is always lying to me or misleading the team. He keeps important information to himself, and is more than a little reckless. I'm constantly trying to talk our way out of the trouble he has gotten us into. I'm always getting reprimanded by my boss for Jane's stunts," Lisbon was a little surprised at the venom in her own voice. But it was her only real complaint about the man.

"He trusts you, Teresa," Gemma said softly. "He trusts you completely, and don't think he doesn't. I see it in the way he watches you, the way he plays with you. He trusts Agents Cho and Rigsby too, but with you? I think he lets his guard down with you."

"No, he doesn't," Lisbon muttered and turned a little away. Gemma approached, and placed her hands on the smaller woman's shoulders. Lisbon's emerald eyes met Gemma's deep brown ones, and Lisbon was struck by the tenderness in them. Gemma was far too young a woman to have eyes so wise.

"Oh, Teresa," Gemma said sadly. "I wish I could make you understand better. But the Jane you know now, the one who makes you smile when you don't want to and causes all this trouble for you? He didn't exist five years ago. The surface is the same, but it's a mask. True trust, it's a fragile thing, especially for him. Call it by any name you want, but Patrick Jane was a professional liar and grifter, pure and simple. And con artists know better than anyone just how precious trust is, because they can't give it to just anyone. And yet, here he is, trusting in you."

Lisbon didn't know what to say to that, but wanted to believe it so much. She wasn't sure when she had let her guard down, but she had. And now she cared deeply about him, and it killed her to think maybe he didn't care about her the same way.

"I wish I could believe you," Lisbon whispered, refusing to let her eyes water. Gemma let her hands fall off Lisbon's shoulders.

"You can," Gemma said with a smile and a faraway look. "I don't claim psychic powers, and I don't know what the future holds for the two of you. Right now, you are the closest thing to a best friend he has, and probably the best kind of friend he could possibly have. And if Patrick is going to survive his obsession with Red John, he will need you. He will need you all."

"So you know about that," Lisbon said. "Have you tried to stop him? Jane's obsession could get him killed."

"Of course I do," Gemma replied as she started to leave the barn. "And, no, I haven't tried to stop him. I hate that monster too, but if there is anyone in the world who can kill that bastard, it's Patrick Jane."

Lisbon was left alone in the barn, thoughtful. Gemma's velvet voice had hardened when she talked about the serial killer, and a faint echo of the kind of anger Patrick Jane could summon colored her tone. Lisbon found herself wondering just how much Gemma had been changed by the Jane family tragedy. The serial killer had hurt so many, taken so many lives, Lisbon realized that his web of violence extended far beyond his victims. His dirty fingerprints were on a lot of souls, spreading poison and disease.

Lisbon promised herself right then and there that Red John would not get Patrick Jane. That beast would not kill Jane, and Lisbon wasn't going to let Jane sacrifice his life or freedom to catch him. She didn't know how she was going to prevent it, but Jane would survive Red John if she had anything to do with it. She had always wanted to catch the killer, because it was her job and he needed to be stopped. But now, it was turning personal.

Patrick Jane belonged to her, and Red John couldn't have him, she thought fiercely as the sound of thunder spilled across the sky.


	13. Interlude

_**Author's Note:** Sorry I took so long and this chapter is so short. Moving really sucks up the time :)_

**Chapter 13-Interlude**

The morning dawned clean and fresh, the thunderstorms overnight seeming to have washed the taint out of the world. The team awoke to a peaceful morning, and shuffled into the kitchen. Gemma had decided that since she was hostess, she should probably act like one and was working on breakfast. It helped that it was the weekend, so she didn't have the pressure to be at work. Despite her words to Cho and the fact she was not an inspired cook, she did enjoy the activity. The sounds of soft upbeat jazz filled the kitchen, and Gemma danced a little as she prepared the meal. It had been a long time since she had a home full of people she admired, and she reveled in it. Her hermitage, it seemed, was growing stale.

The first to arrive in the kitchen was Rigsby, his shirt tucked in but he was fussing with his belt. His slightly gloomy expression became boyishly hopeful as he caught the scent of Gemma's omelets. Having realized one of her guests was likely an elephant in a previous life, she served up an extra large portion to the tall, brawny man who accepted with a little boy grin. Lisbon and Cho trailed in with surprised appreciation for breakfast. Jane was last, strolling casually to the warm kitchen, his blond curls less unruly than usual.

Lisbon enjoyed her breakfast, and watched Jane and Gemma in an attempt to define their relationship. They bantered as they stood by the kitchen sink, and Gemma gently insulted Jane at least once, which caused him to laugh. They were close, sharing a level of intimacy she had never seen in Jane before. It wasn't romantic, despite the affectionate touches. Lisbon brushed her dark hair behind her ear and savored her morning coffee, and realized that Patrick Jane didn't really touch people all that frequently. It was a subtle thing, as if he was an actor who had blocked out scenes in his head and kept just the right distance.

Gemma jumped slightly when Lisbon's phone rang, and she gave a sheepish smile under Jane's amused scrutiny. Her dishtowel made satisfying snap in the air, and Jane pretended to cower away as Rigsby and Cho grinned.

"Hello Sheriff Hollins," Lisbon was saying, rolling her eyes at the antics near the sink. "Yes. Yes, that's great. Uh huh, see you there in 30 minutes."

Cho and Rigsby immediately straightened and looked expectantly at their boss. "What's up, boss?" Rigsby asked.

"Warrant finally came through," Lisbon said as she swallowed the last of her morning coffee and stood up. "Let's go."

"Yes," Jane said equably, but Gemma caught the look of anticipation in his blue eyes. "Let's go see what the Renton's have to hide!"

Gemma watched as the CBI team gathered their gear and headed out to the SUV. She watched as they filled the car, Lisbon in the driver's seat and Jane riding shotgun, and noted how it looked like a dance, with all the players knowing exactly where to be. She turned and looked at her now empty kitchen, at the remnants of breakfast, and was curious about what the agents would find. The echo of a bird's cry cut through the quiet of her land, and Gemma wondered at the odd feeling of dislocation she felt. Brushing it off, she turned and started cleaning up.

The Renton farm would hold the missing pieces of the puzzle, and Gemma wondered if she was ready for the resolution. After all, once the case was closed, Jane and his CBI friends would leave her along again.

Sometimes, Gemma thought to herself, endings suck.


	14. Puzzle Pieces

**_Author's Note: Sorry about the delay! Moving across country by car. I did have lots of time to think and got a few more plot bunnies for Gemma, but I want to finish this story before I move on into other aspects of the Gemmaverse as I've started calling it in my head. As always, reviews welcome and craved! I'm like an addict for them, I think. :D_**

**Chapter 14- Puzzle Pieces**

"So when was the last time anyone actually saw Sally Renton?" Lisbon was asking her agents as they waited for the sheriff at the Renton stables. She was warily watching Jane as he gazed curiously around the property, and stifled a sigh as he headed unerringly for the small tractor. For a grown man, he had an unwholesome obsession with farm equipment, she decided.

"About 4 days ago now," Cho supplied, also watching Jane climb the tractor. "No one has seen her or her car since then. Van Pelt said there hasn't been any activity on her credit or bank cards."

"Running," Rigsby commented, not bothering to hide his amusement at Jane playing on the tractor.

"But why?" Cho asked the taller man. "I mean, she vanished the day her husband killed Lehman."

"Maybe Renton confronted her, and she left him," Rigsby offered.

"If she left him, she wouldn't be avoiding using her bank cards," Lisbon noted. "The fact that there isn't any activity means one of two things. Either she is hiding, trying to stay off the grid…"

"Or she isn't able to use them," Jane said, having hopped off the tractor and rejoined his colleagues. "Held against her will or incapacitated in some way. Maybe even dead. I'm betting on dead."

"Total guess," Cho countered. "How can you know that?"

"The tractor," Jane said. The three CBI agents turned to look at the small green tractor with a curved snow plow head attached to the front.

"What about it?" Lisbon finally asked. "It's a tractor."

"Yes, but why is it here?" Jane asked with a small smile. "This is a horse stable, not a farm. It isn't for plowing. There are plenty of trucks and I saw one of those small forklifts near the barn yesterday morning, so the tractor isn't needed for hauling stuff. And why a snow plow on the front? It is May. Plus, it doesn't belong to Renton."

"What?" Rigsby asked. Jane handed him a small slip of paper.

"The title says it belongs to somebody named Bob Druckard," Jane explained. "Probably Bob the drunken postmaster. He may not even know it's gone."

"So he borrowed a tractor," Lisbon pointed out. "There could be a thousand reasons for that."

"Maybe, but there isn't," Jane said calmly. "Look at the ground underneath the tractor. The earth has been moved. Probably dug up, then he used the snow plow to cover and bury Sally Renton, and parked the tractor on top to hide it. Pretty clever, actually."

"So where is her car?" Cho asked, looking around.

"Probably driven off a cliff or hidden in the woods somewhere," Jane replied. "But Sally Renton is under that tractor. I'm sure of it."

Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby looked at each other, and Cho approached the tractor to look at the ground underneath. The soil was disturbed, and Cho was willing to admit it was possible. He looked at his boss, and said as much to her with his gaze.

"Alright," Lisbon gave in. "We will take a look at the tractor. But if, and I do mean if, Sally Renton is buried under there, who put her there?"

Jane just shrugged carelessly, and turned to watch the sheriff's car and the local forensic people drive up. "I have no idea."

Three hours later, they found Sally Renton. A sweaty, dirty Rigsby and two of Hollins' deputies had laboriously but carefully dug the earth up again from under the tractor with shovels. The heavy, appalling stench of decomposition wafted out of the shallow grave, driving Rigsby and the deputies to retch and climb hastily out of the hole. Jane, Lisbon and Sheriff Hollins covered their noses and looked down on the barely exposed body. All they could see was the faint outline of her head and one of her hands still caked in dirt. Lisbon traded a look with Jane, and Hollins turned green and rushed away.

"Cho, call the state police. We need to talk to Jack Renton again," Lisbon ordered. "Rigsby, go get cleaned up and then track down this Bob guy. Find out about the tractor. Let's let the coroner and forensic people do their job. Jane, are you done looking around the house?"

"Yes, but I want to look at the barn before we go," Jane replied. "Renton said Lehman and his wife were trying to blackmail him with a bale of marijuana hidden in there. I want to see if we can find it."

"Fine, but be quick about it," Lisbon agreed. Her tension headache from yesterday was coming back. Now she had a second body, and what should have been a straightforward case was becoming very complicated. She crouched down at the edge of the grave, still covering her nose and looked at the remains of Sally Renton as the forensic people started brushing the dirt away. Something glinted in the late morning sun.

"Wait," Lisbon ordered and pointed. "What is that in her hand?"

One of the forensic techs brushed more soil from the exposed hand. He took a few pictures and gently pried a piece of thick gold chain out. He put in an evidence bag and handed it to Lisbon, who stood up and studied it in the sunlight.

"What is that?" Jane asked as he quietly approached again. Lisbon handed it to him.

"It was in her hand, some kind of jewelry. Looks male," Lisbon answered.

"Very astute, Lisbon. I'm impressed," Jane complimented her teasingly as he looked at the small length of chain. Lisbon just gave him a slightly irritated look. "This doesn't look like something Jack Renton would wear. Lehman, though, this gaudy piece of chain is would be right up his alley."

"How did you come to that conclusion?" Lisbon asked as she lead the blond man to the waiting SUV.

"All the jewelry in the house is Sally Renton's, very girly and flashy. There was only one high school class ring big enough for a man, and it looked hardly used. Jack Renton didn't spend his money on bling, as it were. He put everything he made back into his dream, this stable. He wouldn't wear this," Jane explained as he tucked the baggie into his pocket and got into the car. "Lehman, however, he had a diamond ear stud and several rings on him."

"Did you find your marijuana stash?" Lisbon asked as she pulled away. Cho and Rigsby would borrow a deputy car and follow later.

Jane gave a roguish grin, and pulled out his own baggy filled with a green flakes and waved it at her. "Care to light up with me, Lisbon?"

Lisbon shot him a small grin. "The last thing I want to see is you high, Jane. You are already a big enough pain in the ass sober."


	15. Secrets

**Chapter 15-Secrets**

Once more, Lisbon found herself staring at the ceiling of the Mina jail. Only this time, Patrick Jane sat across from her, watching her watch the ceiling. And instead of watching a small spider crawling along, her green eyes tracked a fly mindlessly bashing itself against a corner. They were waiting for the state police to bring Renton back to the jail. Cho's call had missed them by about an hour, and now the troopers had to turn around and bring their suspect back.

"Stop it," Lisbon said after a few minutes, her eyes never leaving her fly. Jane smiled.

"It's interesting," Jane replied, amusement coloring his tone.

"Stop it anyway. It's creeping me out," Lisbon said calmly.

"Tell me," Jane said instead. Lisbon's eyes flickered to her companion.

"Tell you what?" she asked in confusion.

"Tell me what's bothering you," Jane asked again. "You will feel better, I promise."

"Jane," Lisbon said, her voice tired.

"Just do it, woman. Why does everything have to be a fight with you?" Jane asked plaintively, his voice belying the humor in his eyes. Lisbon looked at him in surprise, and his grin grew wider as he saw her mouth quirk in spite of herself.

"I just don't get this case," Lisbon gave in. "It seemed straightforward. Renton killed Lehman over an affair and drugs. But Lehman had been beaten hours before he was killed, and now Sally Renton, Renton's wife and Lehman's lover, is dead and buried under a tractor with a piece of jewelry that might or might not be Lehman's. What do you make of it?"

Jane shrugged, stood up and made a face. "I don't know yet. I hate to rain on your parade, Lisbon, but I'm not really a psychic."

Lisbon found herself laughing as Jane strolled out for a cup of tea. Unexpectedly, she did feel better. When she looked out to where Jane was, he was bouncing a tea bag in his cup and waved her over when he caught her eye. She rose and joined him in watching the state troopers bringing back Jack Renton.

Jack Renton looked like a man who did not agree with jail. He was unshaven, his hair a little mussed. He was wearing bright orange jail fatigues that made his sallow skin look jaundiced, and was forced to shuffle slightly in jail issue flip-flops that discouraged running. Lisbon tilted her head, and the state trooper lead the rather miserable looking Renton to the interrogation room. A few minutes later, the troopers came out, were thanked by Lisbon and went off in search of food.

"Prison life doesn't seem to agree with Mr. Renton," Jane noted as he sipped his tea.

"Good, maybe we will get some answers," Lisbon replied as she headed for the room, Jane trailing after her. Lisbon entered the room, and Jane decided to just watch from the observation window.

"Good morning, Mr. Renton," Lisbon said as she sat down. Jack Renton just grunted, and his handcuffs rattled as he shifted in his chair. "Do you know why you are back here?"

"No," Renton replied sullenly, looking away.

"We'd like to talk to you about your wife, Sally," Lisbon said, eyeing her suspect.

"What about her?" Renton replied, his light brown eyes darting up.

"When was the last time you saw her, Mr. Renton," Lisbon asked.

"I dunno, maybe 3 days ago," Renton replied. "What's this about?"

"Tell me about your last encounter with your wife, Mr. Renton," Lisbon said instead, hands folded on the table. She looked in control and patient, and Jane felt a smile twitch his lips as he watched them through the one way glass.

"Encounter?" Renton repeated. "No "encounter," lady. I got up, she was making breakfast. We ate, I went out to feed the horses. She said she was going to the grocery store in Ukiah. Last time I saw her, she was driving off. Haven't seen her since."

"So your wife goes missing for days and you don't call to police?" Lisbon asked.

Renton flushed. "Well, with everything up on the mountain, I didn't want cops nosing around. I…I thought maybe she left me. I just figured good riddance to the cheating bitch."

Lisbon was silent as she studied Jack Renton. He looked sincere, confused and tired. She wished Jane was here in the room, but figured he'd poke his head in if something occurred to him.

"Tell me again about Doug Lehman," Lisbon changed the subject. Renton looked petulant and sullen.

"I already said what happened. Jerk was banging my wife, and I hit him on the head. He fell wrong, broke his neck I think. I already said all this," Renton all but whined.

"How did you find out about Mr. Lehman and your wife's affair?" Lisbon pressed. Renton looked away again, and shifted in his chair, handcuffs rattling, but didn't reply. "Mr. Renton, answer me."

"I saw them," Renton mumbled finally.

"Saw them where?" Lisbon asked. "Together?"

"Yes. No. Sort of." Renton replied.

"What do you mean, sort of?" Lisbon's voice held a trace of impatience.

"I caught him, caught Doug. He came up a few months ago and I saw him leaving the barn in the middle of the night. Sally came out a few minutes later, putting her bra back on. And I knew, they…they were…in my barn!" Renton trailed off, an angry hurt look in his light brown eyes.

"Did you confront your wife about the affair?" Lisbon continued.

"Not really," Renton said, appearing to deflate as he slumped in his chair. "I tried, but I just couldn't."

Lisbon flicked her eyes to the one way mirror, green eyes searching blindly for her consultant, before turning back to the defeated Renton.

"Doug Lehman appears to have been in a physical altercation a few hours before you killed him," Lisbon said. "What can you tell me about that?"

"A what?" Renton again looked confused.

"A fight, Mr. Renton," Lisbon explained tiredly. "What do you know about it?"

Renton's long, narrow face shifted into yet another expression of confusion. His light brown eyes squinted slightly and a crease appeared between his brows. Outside the window, Jane saw Lisbon suppress her irritation at the man's slow comprehension.

"I don't know anything about a fight," Renton said. "I mean he did look a little beat up, but he said it wasn't nothing. He didn't say anything about that, I swear."

"Would anyone want to hurt your wife, Mr. Renton?" Lisbon asked.

"Why do you keep asking about Sally? What's going on?" Renton demanded. Lisbon took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Renton, but we found your wife's body this morning," Lisbon said, only a trace of sympathy in her tone as she watched one of her prime suspects. "She was murdered, probably about 3 days ago."

Renton paled and just stared at Lisbon. "Sally? She's dead? When?"

"About 3 days ago," Lisbon repeated again to the shaken man. Renton put his head in his hands and remained silent for a while. Eventually, his shoulders started to shake slightly, and Lisbon heard him try to suppress a sob. Lisbon felt her heart go out to the man. Sure, he was a murdering, drug dealing scumbag, but he obviously had loved his wife and was devastated by her murder. Lisbon rose, placed her hand on Renton's shoulder, and quietly left the room. Outside, she stood by Jane as they looked at the grieving man through the one-way glass.

"Well?" Lisbon asked the taller, blond man.

"He seems genuinely shocked and grief stricken," Jane said thoughtfully. "I don't think he knew she was dead. He didn't kill her."

Lisbon sighed. "I agree. I don't think he did either. So we have Lehman's killer, but not Sally's. Think Lehman killed Sally?"

"A strong possibility," Jane said as they walked back to the conference room. Lisbon paused to ask a deputy to watch the door but leave the man alone for a while. When Lisbon finally came in, Jane stood by the window looking out, his empty tea cup on the table.

Lisbon sat down and studied his back, trying to decide if she would ask him about Gemma. Ever since seeing all those family photos in Gemma's bedroom, and their little talk in the barn, Lisbon had been trying to figure out just where Gemma fit into his life. Jane never mentioned family, even said he had no place to go the time he got suspended, so she had assumed he had no one. Only to find this tall, dark woman in the backwoods of California.

"Jane, can I ask you a question?" Lisbon said after a while. The blond man turned, his blue eyes turned slightly green in the afternoon light. He nodded, looking only a little surprised.

"You want to know about Gemma," Jane replied impassively.

"If you don't want to tell me…" Lisbon said hurriedly. She and Jane shared an unspoken understanding, but the entire team tried to keep a distance between private and working life.

Jane waved her off, and really looked at her. He was uncharacteristically quiet, and Lisbon saw he was actually chewing on the inside of his lower lip. He quickly glanced outside the conference room, before closing the door and sitting across from Lisbon, leaning forward slightly.

"This has to stay between us, Lisbon," Jane said, his blue eyes serious. "It's important. I'm trusting you completely here."

"Yes, of course," Lisbon said without reservation, her emerald eyes wide at Jane unusual manner.

"You know I first met Gemma when she was eight," Jane started.

"Yes, she tried to pick your pocket," Lisbon replied.

"Right. Well, she and her mother were very poor, and I tried to help out however I could. But when Gemma was 14, I took custody of her from social services after her mother died," Jane continued. "We've been a part of each other's lives ever since. She used to help me, with the psychic thing. We drifted apart a little when she was in college, but after…after my family was killed, Gemma basically took over."

"Oh," Lisbon said quietly, her eyes still wide. "So she knows about the…."

Jane gave a hesitant, brittle smile. "She's the one who signed the papers," Jane said softly. "She took over my assets, too. In fact, she still has legal control of everything. I never took it back. I don't want it anymore." Lisbon watched Jane, waiting for him to continue but he didn't. As she thought about what he was telling her, a question occurred to her as the silence dragged on.

"Wait," Lisbon asked. "You would have been, what, 24 years old? How did you get custody?"

Jane laughed softly. "Not easily, Lisbon. It got complicated fast because Beryl, Gemma's mother, was Crow and Kiowa Indian from Montana, and the Indian Welfare Act people were all gung ho to place her with her mother's extended family. They really don't like placing native kids off the reservations, and I was just some white psychic from California."

"So how did you get around that?" Lisbon asked confused. She wasn't sure where this was leading, and really didn't understand why this had to be such a secret.

Jane took a deep breath. "I told you, my father and her mother were old friends. Really, really old friends," he said intently, his eyes willing her to understand. Lisbon caught her breath.

"She's your…" Lisbon got out before Jane hushed her with a finger on her lips. "Why can't I say it?"

"Look," Jane said, "Gemma had legally changed her name to Gemma Patrick when she was 17, basically to disappear from her mother's kin. Most of her mother's family are good, decent people, but some weren't. We got records changed, sealed, even expunged. Almost all trace of her connection to me was erased, just so she could live her life on her terms and the part of her family she wanted to avoid couldn't find her."

"Ok, so why all the secrecy now? She's a grown woman, they can't touch her if she doesn't want them too," Lisbon pointed out.

"You know I want Red John," Jane said intently, his lips narrowed in remembered anger and perhaps a trace of fear. "For what he did to my wife and child. He killed them to teach me a lesson, but he might kill her if he ever figures it out, just to torment me. I don't know how he missed it, but it's all that's really keeping her safe. According to the record, she's nothing more than long time family friend of me and my wife's, who inherited my wife's estate when I refused it and became my legal proxy. But she's not-legally-family. Not anymore."

Jane moved to sit next to Lisbon, and took her hand in his. Lisbon tried to ignore the warmth in her chest at his touch, and found herself captured by the depth of his blue eyes as he leaned in close.

"I can't lose her," Jane said in a low voice, pleading. "I couldn't handle it, Lisbon. Please, Teresa. No one knowing is the only protection she has right now. Promise me you won't say anything to anyone. Please?"

Lisbon bit her lip, and tightened her fingers in Jane's grip. This was so important to him. She leaned a little forward herself, until they could almost kiss and touched her forehead to his. She had never been so close, so physically intimate with him before, and she inhaled his warm vanilla scent. Jane breathed her cinnamon laced perfume, and waited as his skin tingled at her touch.

"I promise, Patrick," Lisbon whispered. "I promise."


	16. Stolen Moments

**_Author's Note: I realized Cho was getting kind of left out. Can't have that, now can we?_**

**Chapter 16- Stolen Moments**

Kimball Cho looked at his partner impassively. "You are filthy," he stated.

Rigsby gave him a slightly annoyed look as he tried to brush the worst of the dirt from his pants. His shirt was half unbuttoned and sweat stained, his hair lank and dusty. His normally pale, fair skin was streaked with dust and he looked tired. "I didn't see you helping out digging under that tractor," he pointed out.

"No, you didn't," Cho agreed and waved to one of the deputies. Lisbon and Jane had just pulled out in the SUV, and Cho reflected that next time they came out to the middle of nowhere, he was going to bring a second car.

"I need the keys to your car," Cho told the deputy. It was the same deputy that had been talking to Sheriff Hollins the day they first met Gemma.

"Uh, I don't think so, Agent Cho," the man replied uneasily. "I'll take you wherever you need to go."

Cho looked at the man with his best impassive face for a moment. He had been paying attention to the general feeling about Gemma Patrick with the locals. She was respected for both her intelligence and her willingness to be patient with her less fortunate clients about late fees. But no one wanted to cross her. Tales were still told of the last time someone irritated her, and the tongue lashing (and bruises) she had given the drunken man who had tried to steal a kiss at the last county fair. Her ire was legendary, and her laugh a rare and golden gift Cho was glad to have seen.

Cho indicated the dirty Risgby with a wave. "You know, I have to take that back to Gemma Patrick," Cho pointed out, and saw the poor deputy pale slightly. "She is not going to be happy with Agent Swamp Thing here tracking dirt all over her place. Do you still want to chauffeur us around, or give me the keys?"

The deputy swallowed and stared at Rigsby, who was trying to suppress a smile despite his misery. His partner had been complaining about the lack of a second car for days, and looked like he was going to fix the problem. The fact that he was using the general awe of Gemma Patrick to do it was just funny to him. He realized something was going on between them, but what he didn't know.

Finally, after a moment, the deputy handed over his keys. "You take good care of that car, Agent Cho. I'm still responsible for it."

"Won't even breathe on it wrong," Cho promised as he and Rigsby got in and drove away.

The deputy adjusted his belt and wondered. Those CBI agents had been staying at Gemma Patrick's place for days, and none of them looked the least bit afraid of her. He realized that he actually knew little about the fearsome woman. She never talked about the past, and he remembered only once hearing her mention her mother. Occasionally she had visitors, people she introduced as school friends, but she didn't seem to want to date or he would have tried his hand. Everyone was drawn to her magnetic presence, and commanded attention just by walking by, although she never did anything with it. She socialized at town or county events, but still seemed somewhat apart. But suddenly these state agents were very cozy with her. He decided he wasn't going to worry about it, and went to find his boss to let him know the CBI had conscripted his car. And the fact that he had chickened out at the mere thought of meeting a certain irritated veterinarian was going to remain his little secret.

Cho and Rigsby drove up to Gemma's house, and spotted the dark woman kneeling at one of her front flower patches. She turned as they came to a stop, and Cho was again struck by her presence.

She was slightly in the shade, and was just barely touched by dappled sunlight through the trees. Her braided long black hair brushed her lower back, and her deep brown eyes looked wise and mysterious. He watched the narrow fullness of her lips move in a smile that seemed to light her up. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and when she met Cho's eyes, he forgot to breathe again. The moment seemed to stretch out as they gazed at each other through the car window and he all but drowned in her eyes.

A sudden noise from his right broke the connection, and Cho looked over to see Rigsby lumbering out of the car, trailing a little dust in his wake. Cho also exited, and watched as Gemma stood up and looked at Rigsby with amusement.

"What happened to you?" she asked as she pulled her gardening gloves off and brushed her knees off in one quick movement.

"Long story," Rigsby muttered. "I'm gonna take a shower and change."

Gemma's mouth quirked and her dark eyes glinted with good humor. "Want me to burn those clothes?" Cho felt his own mouth twitch.

"Maybe," Rigsby called back as he carefully wiped his shoes as much as possible before going in the house. Gemma gave a small laugh and looked at Cho.

"So what happened to him?" she asked as she headed back to her gardening. Cho followed and sat on the front steps to watch her.

"We found Sally Renton," Cho said. "She's dead."

"Oh my," Gemma looked up, concern on her face. "What happened?"

Cho shrugged. "Not sure yet, but she was buried on the Renton property. Rigsby and some of the deputies had to do the dirty work."

"How did you find her?" Gemma asked as she pulled a weed, then lovingly patted the soil back around a young flowering plant. Cho caught the scent of her citrus shampoo and the freshly turned earth, and could help but smile a little. He was a little amazed at the strength of his attraction to this woman, whom he barely knew at all.

"Jane had a hunch, about a tractor of all things," Cho said. Gemma smiled and moved over to the next part of her work.

"Janey was always good at that. He always liked police work," Gemma commented. She glanced up to Cho, and admired his strong face, the lines around his mouth as he smiled slightly. The breeze was in the wrong direction, but she remembered the musky sandalwood smell of the compact man from a few nights ago.

"Really?" Cho asked when their gazes met again, before Gemma turned a little away. Cho thought he saw a trace of a blush, but it was hard to tell in her bronze skin. He scooted a little on the step he was sitting on.

"Yeah, it is the challenge, I think," Gemma replied. "It's much more interesting than wives wanting to know if husbands are cheating or people trying to contact dead relatives. Those types of things, you kind of know the answer going into it. But a crime? You don't know anything, and have to put the puzzle together. He loves that kind of challenge."

Cho nodded. "That's why I love my job," he offered. Gemma smiled up at him.

"I can tell," she said. She pulled her last weed then came up to sit next to him, shoulders barely brushing his. "And you are good at it, too."

Cho turned slightly toward her, and suddenly she seemed so very close. He watched her eyes smile as they met his, saw her bite her lower lip a little. He felt a sudden surge of attraction, and was leaning in before he knew what he was doing.

Their lips met, soft and gentle. Cho felt Gemma smile as they both leaned into the kiss. Her lips parted slightly, and he felt the tip of her tongue taste his own lips. He reached around and pulled her close, and felt her hands slide across his chest as she embraced him. She tasted of mint tea and honey, and her heady scent enveloped him. He lost himself in her kiss, letting his other hand caress her neck. She let out a little sigh, and when she lightly nipped his lower lip, he moaned. The moment stretched, the kiss lasting an eternity of bliss.

Rigsby chose that moment to leave the den where he had been changing after his quick shower. He looked out the open door and saw Cho and Gemma's embrace, and stopped. Their passionate hold was somehow intensely private, but he couldn't help but stare. He saw Cho lightly touch her neck, and Gemma melting even further into his friend's arms. Suddenly, Rigsby had an image of red hair and a long, graceful neck he wished he could caress like that.

As the seemed to break apart for a moment, Rigsby hastily opened and shut the den door loudly, facing away from the porch. When he turned around again, they had separated slightly. Cho looked impassive as usual, but a small smile tugged at one corner and he was breathing a little fast. Gemma's eyes shone and she quickly stood up and moved off the step as Rigsby approached. Rigsby did his best to look innocent as he left the house.

"We ready to go find Bob Druckard?" Rigsby asked his partner. Cho just nodded, they both waved to Gemma as they got into the borrowed deputy car and drove away.

Gemma watched them go, and once they were out of sight, brushed her fingertips to her neck where his touch still tingled. It had been a long time since she had been kissed so thoroughly or so well. She still felt heady and flushed, and smiled to herself.

She went back to her house work, the taste of Kimball Cho still on her lips.


	17. A New Twist

**Author's note: So I blame kathiann for this. She came too close too often to solving my original crime, so that made me re-do it in an attempt to be clever. So if you hate it, it's my fault. If you like it, it's all kathiann's fault for making me rethink it. :) I love reviews, and yes, they do have an impact on my stories!**

**Chapter 17- A New twist**

Once in the car, Cho had a brief moment of panic. What was he going to tell Jane? Because Cho had no doubt the other man would know what had happened the minute Jane laid eyes on Cho. The enormity of what he had just done hit him in the stomach. What had he been thinking?

It just wasn't right that Cho had basically made out with their host during an active criminal investigation, not to mention the fact that Gemma was practically his colleague's daughter! Jane had custody of her when she was just 14 years old! What was he going to do? His mind raced in tight circles. He didn't normally lose control this way, but something about the tall, golden skin woman completely undid him.

But even as his mind tried to make up excuses, he could feel the phantom press of Gemma's mouth, the warmth of her hands on his body, the faint aftertaste of her honeyed breath intoxicating him. He forced his expression into normalcy, and focused intently on the road, hoping Rigsby didn't notice his too tight grip on the steering wheel. He was just thankful the bigger man had not appeared a moment earlier to see his enormous breach of professional conduct.

Rigsby, for his part, glanced sideways to his partner. Cho seemed normal, but Rigsby didn't think he was. If Rigsby had been kissed like that, he certainly wouldn't be.

"So, do we know where Bob Druckard is?" Rigsby asked instead. Cho looked at him and nodded.

"Yeah, I called the Sheriff's office just before we left the Renton's," Cho replied, his voice normal as he quietly calmed himself. It was, after all, just a kiss. A wonderful, delightful, incredibly erotic kiss, but still, just one little kiss. No harm, no foul, right? "They gave me his address and said to try a bar on Main Street he likes to go to."

"Ok, so what is the plan?" Rigsby asked, turning to look out the window, suddenly wishing Grace was around and wondering what she would feel like in his arms. He forced the thought out, and focused on the task at hand.

"The bar is just a few blocks from the Sheriff's office. I figured we'd bring him in to ask a few questions. According to Claire, Druckard is a mean drunk in the bar, but tends to settle right down once brought in," Cho explained.

"Who is Claire?" Rigsby looked confused.

"Hollin's secretary. The older, blond woman who sits near the coffee," Cho looked at his partner like he was missing something obvious, and Rigsby refused to give him the satisfaction of looking abashed. Cho started to feel more normal. "Here we are."

Rigsby looked up, still a little astonished on just how small the actual town of Mina was. Gemma lived just on the edge of the town, and they had barely gone a mile before they were in the main street. The bar had a faded wooden sign saying "Jake's", with only one small window with a neon beer bottle blinking. The parking lot was sprinkled with a few old cars and trucks, but was mostly empty. Just down the street, one other car crawled up and pulled into the small grocery store next to the bar, and across from Jake's, someone walked out of the box-car diner Jane had mentioned yesterday. Rigsby felt like he had been dropped into Mayberry, but with fewer people and less money.

"Geez, this town is small," Rigsby commented as he and Cho walked up to the door. Cho just nodded in agreement as they entered.

The bar was dimmer than outside, and had a seedy feel to it. Cho would not have been surprised if there had been actual sawdust on the floor. Cho spotted the bartender, a short, balding man leaning against the counter near a couple of older women nursing cheap beers. Cho and Rigsby strode up, and Cho signaled the man to come closer. Rigsby scanned the room as Cho pulled out his badge.

"Agents Cho and Rigsby, CBI," Cho said. "We are looking for Bob Druckard. Have you seen him?"

"CBI? What is that?" the short bartender asked.

Cho stifled a sigh. His job really did need better PR. "California Bureau of Investigations. Do you know where Bob Druckard is?"

"Yeah, sure, that's Bob over there," the bartender waved to a far booth near the jukebox that could have come right out of the 70's. Only half of its sickly neon border was lit up, the other half flickering as it slowly died. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"Thank you, sir," Cho replied instead and the two men approached their target.

Bob Druckard was not an impressive man. He was an older man, medium height, skinny in a wasted sort of way, with lank brown hair streaked with gray and badly in need of a trim. His pale blue eyes were bleary as he tried to focus on the two agents, and his nose had the peculiar red, bulbous tip long term alcoholics can get. He sat huddled in a booth with dingy cloth seats, and was nursing a beer. Several empty bottles already cluttered the other end of the table. His clothes where rumpled and Cho could see what looked like an old ketchup stain on his shirt.

"Mr. Druckard? Bob Druckard?" Rigsby asked as they stood around the drunken man.

"Whadda you want?" the man slurred, and tilted a little to the left as he tried to look at the other men.

"We are CBI Agents Cho and Rigsby," Cho said. "Would you come with us, please? We would like to ask you a few questions."

"So ask 'em, boy," the older man spoke slowly, trying to overcome his drunken slur. He gave a little belch, and took a pull from his beer bottle, only to grimace as he realized it was empty. "Hey, Ricky! Another!" he shouted.

Rigsby turned to the bartender, and shook his head. Ricky backed away, eyes wide and curious. The two older women drinking at the bar had turned to watch the show as well. Druckard scowled when he saw what Rigsby had done.

"Whadda you do that for?" Druckard demanded loudly. Cho moved to the man's side and gently but firmly took his arm to pull him up. Once Druckard was standing, he jerked his arm out and stumbled slightly. "Hey! Lemme alone! Who do you think you are?"

"We are the police, Mr. Druckard," Cho said patiently as Rigsby came on to Druckard's other side. The drunken man looked up to the taller agent, swaying slightly. "You need to come with us, please."

Druckard started to get an angry look on his face, and neither agent was surprised when he tried to take a swing at the imposing Rigsby, who leaned out of range of the intoxicated man. The wild swing missed both men by miles, and the drunk staggered from his own momentum. Rigsby and Cho calmly turned the man around, and cuffed him. They marched the unsteady Druckard out of the bar, reading him his Miranda rights and walked him to the waiting squad car.

They shoved the raving man into the car, ignoring the loud, rambling complaints and yells for help. Rigsby looked over at the cars in the parking lot. One of the trucks attracted his attention, and he went over to look. Cho followed.

"What is it?" Cho asked when Rigsby knelt down in front of the dangling bumper of a battered brown pick-up truck. The bumper was poorly duct taped into place, and already the tape was starting to fail.

"Look at this," Rigsby pointed. "Fresh dents and what looks like paint transfer. That headlight is broken, recently too. You can see the plastic shards inside. What color was Sally Renton's car again?"

"Blue," Cho replied, looking at the bumper as well. There did appear to be some blue paint scrapes. He looked over to where Rick the bartender had come out to watch them arrest Druckard.

"Hey, whose truck is this?" Cho called out to the balding man.

"Bob's, of course," Rick called back. "He's had that same truck for years."

Rigsby and Cho traded looks, then looked at the man still raving in the back seat of the police car.

"Better call forensics," Rigsby said.

"Better call Lisbon," Cho replied.


	18. Busted

**_Author's Note: On a roll tonight. I am trying to finish this before I have to go back to work in a few days. Funny, this started out as a little thing, going to be maybe 4 or 5 chapters, and now here we are at 18! Thanks to everyone who is staying with what is turning into a little novel._**

**Chapter 18- Busted**

Patrick Jane stood by the large conference room windows he and Lisbon had basically commandeered from the local Sheriff's office. As he looked outside, the thought about what he had told Lisbon concerning Gemma. He wasn't worried Lisbon would tell anyone, but was wondering what had prompted him to tell her in the first place. He trusted Lisbon, everyone did. She just had that special aura that said she would take care of everything and made you feel safe and secure. But he didn't need to tell her about Gemma, he could have turned the question aside easily enough. When looked at objectively, it was in fact something he should not have told Lisbon. Red John and Patrick Jane were on a collision course, and whether it would be days or decades, sooner or later they would meet. It was as inevitable as the sun rising.

But if Red John ever figured out just exactly who Gemma Patrick was, Jane had no doubt she would be dead. Just the thought of her gone from the world, lost to the sharp edge of a monster's brutal knife and incomprehensible desires sent a shiver of deep, atavistic fear through his spine. He had barely survived the loss of his beloved wife and child, and only because Gemma had been there. If he lost her, he was certain he wouldn't survive a second time. Not even for Lisbon, although he brushed that thought aside.

In fact, if Gemma was taken from him, Jane would end the sick game between him and Red John in the only way left. He would take his own life, ending their twisted connection. Red John would win that round, but Jane would win the war because the only person Red John saw as an appropriate audience would be gone. Jane would be dead, but Red John's victory would turn to ash once he realized the only other person on the planet he considered an equal had killed himself just to spite the serial killer. Not the vengeance Patrick Jane wanted, but a final option held in reserve if all else failed.

Jane turned when he heard the door open, and saw Lisbon enter while talking on her cell phone, her face showing a mix of surprise and excitement.

"That was Cho," Lisbon crowed after she hung up. "They are bringing Druckard here. Rigsby found what looks like blue paint transfer on Druckard's truck. I think we have a new suspect for Sally Renton's murder."

Jane smiled back at her, and his mind started to put the pieces together. Lisbon caught the shift in his posture as an idea took shape in Jane's mind, and his blue eyes started to twinkle. He spotted Cho and Rigsby guiding an obviously drunk man into the office, and hand him over to the deputies. Jane grabbed his suit jacket, and headed out to the agents, Lisbon trailing along in his wake.

"Wait, Jane, where are you going?" Lisbon demanded. "We need to talk to Druckard."

"Not yet, Lisbon," Jane replied as he caught his shirt sleeves and started shrugging into his coat. Rigsby and Cho turned to see Jane and Lisbon approach. Jane was looking at Lisbon, and didn't seem to notice Cho swallow hard or Rigsby's sideways glance to his partner.

"Why not?" Lisbon asked, knowing she was going to lose this fight, but playing along anyway.

"First, Druckard is drunk. A drunken Druckard," Jane grinned. "Anyway, he is too hammered to be coherent. He needs to sober up first. Second, I need to see the bodies," and started for the exit.

"Wait, why do you need to see the bodies?" Lisbon asked of Jane's retreating back. Jane just looked back at her.

"What, you haven't figured it out?" Jane asked with his little grin.

"No, but you are going to tell me," Lisbon said with exaggerated patience, and wanted to strangle the blond man when all he did was chuckle at her and leave the building. She looked at Cho and Rigsby with annoyance. "Well, one of you, go with him."

Cho and Rigsby traded looks. "You're up," Rigsby pointed out. Cho inhaled sharply and actually glowered at the taller man before following the consultant. Lisbon shot a concerned look in her senior agent's wake, then looked to see Rigsby trying to hide a smile.

"What's that all about?" Lisbon asked.

"Nothing, boss," Rigsby said, and hurriedly moved away toward the coffee pot. Lisbon swallowed her irritation, and stalked back to her conscripted conference room. Whatever else was bothering Cho, he was a steady agent and would call Lisbon if Jane did something stupid.

Cho did his very best to act normal around Jane. In fact, if he managed to pull this off, he decided he deserved an Oscar. The entire team, except Lisbon, had only one job when paired with Jane—don't let him get killed and try to stay out of the line of fire. Which was easier said than done, but Cho figured that today Jane was limited in the chaos he could rile up. They were going to the funeral home that doubled as the county morgue, and even Jane couldn't piss off the dead.

Much.

Jane, for his part, was quiet and gazing out the passenger car window. It wasn't going to be a long trip, Mina being as small a town as it was, and Cho decided to pretend nothing happened. He caught a whiff of citrus perfume, but took a second deep breath and didn't find it again. He decided it was his imagination. He couldn't smell like Gemma Patrick after just one kiss. Could he?

The few miles seemed to go on for ages, and Jane finally turned to look at Cho. The Asian man had been acting odd since he had gotten back, too stiff and quiet. Well, quieter, if that was possible. Kimball Cho used few words and fewer facial expressions, but he did have a sardonic sense of humor that came out unexpectedly. But ever since Cho and Rigsby had dropped off Druckard, Cho hadn't said a word to the blond man, just grunted slightly when Jane told him where they needed to go.

Interesting, Jane thought as he gazed at Cho. He saw Cho's hands tighten on the steering wheel, and steal a quick glance at his passenger. Cho's lips tightened ever so slightly, and leaned a little away from Jane as he casually put his elbow on the car door panel. Guilt was written all over Kimball Cho. Jane saw Cho take a deep breath and hold it just a second too long.

Curious, Jane also took a deep breath and there it was. Mixed with Cho's understated normal sandalwood scented aftershave, was the faintest hint of citrus. Not much, just that delicate brush that actually complimented Cho's own scent. Jane looked back out the window, unable to suppress the smile that wanted so badly to appear.

The silence stretched out. Cho and Jane heard only the turning of the car wheels on the county highway, and Cho started to relax. That, of course, was the mistake.

"I bought her that perfume for Christmas last year," Jane commented calmly, still hiding his smile.

The car suddenly swerved, throwing both men to the side before Cho regained control. Jane turned to face the compact man, and schooled his expression into a serious but neutral one. It was harder than usual because of the laughter trying to bubble up inside Jane. Gemma deserved more than the life she had created for herself, and Kimball Cho just might be good enough for her.

"Jane, I'm sorry...it just kind of happened, I swear!" Cho stammered, his dark eyes actually wide and worried. Jane narrowed his eyes at Cho.

"You are sorry you kissed my Sparky?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

"No! I mean, yes, I didn't want to!" Cho was all but babbling. Jane's mouth twitched a little, but Cho was too upset to notice his friend's humor. This was almost too good.

"So you didn't want to kiss my Sparky," Jane echoed. "Did she hold a gun to your head or something?"

"No, but.." Cho tried to answer. Jane decided to have pity on the man, mostly because Gemma would want him too. He could have days of fun with this if it was just Cho, but he wouldn't mess with Gemma's potential happiness.

"Cho, it's ok," Jane said calmly. "Gemma's a grown woman who can make her own decisions. But that must have been some kiss."

"But she's practically your daughter!" Cho said, still distressed. Jane looked at the other man.

"Where did you get that idea?" Jane asked in confusion.

"You were her guardian when she was 14. So, she's practically your daughter," Cho pointed out logically. Jane started to laugh.

"Cho, if Gemma ever catches you calling her my daughter, I won't even bother looking for the body," Jane wheezed out between his laughter. Tears where practically streaming down his cheeks from the force of his laughter.

Cho looked at the consultant, who was laughing as hard as Cho had ever seen him. He felt himself grin a little with the infectious humor, and finally relaxed.

"So you aren't angry?" Cho asked hesitantly after a moment.

"Ah, gods no, Cho," Jane said as he wiped the tears from his eyes and caught his breath again. "But if you break her heart, Cho, I will have to kill you. Nothing personal, you understand, despite the fact that I like you. You should know that."

Cho looked at Jane, and swallowed hard. Jane didn't sound as serious as his threat, but Cho knew better than to take that at face value. For all his reputation as a liar, Patrick Jane used devastating truth more often than not.

Cho thought about his friends words, and again tasted the ghost of Gemma's velvet lips against his, felt her tremble when he caressed her skin. He shivered at the promise in her passionate embrace, and brown eyes locked with blue as the car rolled to a stop.

"Sounds fair," Cho said.

Jane just grinned.


	19. Resolution

**_Author's Note: The end is in sight! I love this story, and Gemma came out much better than I had originally hoped. But all good things must end, if only so I can get my own life back :) Just one more chapter to go. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all you wonderful people reviewing! If I could bottle up the good feeling I get with a review, I would sell it and make billions, then buy the Mentalist just so I could look at Simon Baker, Tim Kang and the gang all day! :)_**

**Chapter 19-Resolution**

It took Patrick Jane all of 15 minutes to examine the bodies of Sally Renton and Doug Lehman. Cho followed the blond man up the stairs and out into the sunlight, and watched as Jane stared off into space for a moment.

"We need to find that car," Jane decided as he got back into the car.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Cho asked as he started the vehicle, and began to pull away. "Sheriff Hollins has all his deputies looking for it for almost 24 hours now, and we have the rangers searching the national park. But this is a huge area."

"Let's go back to the Renton stables," Jane said. Cho shrugged and started off in that direction. He had worked with Jane long enough to not be surprised at the quixotic way the consultant's mind worked. His methods were questionable at best, but no one could argue with the results.

"So, have you decided on your first date yet?" Jane asked suddenly, smiling when Cho jumped a little. They had reached an understanding about Gemma, but Cho was still unsettled by the entire episode. "No need to be so jumpy, Cho."

"I am not talking to you about this," Cho said with a semblance of calm.

"Who are you going to talk to about this?" Jane pointed out reasonably. "Rigsby? Lisbon? Van Pelt?"

"We haven't even gotten to that point," Cho replied, desperate to end this conversation.

"True, you two seemed to have skipped that entire section," Jane agreed, his blue eyes sparkling a bit. "Still, that's no reason to not go back and do it right. Use some of that Cho charm I know you have."

Cho shot the consultant an irritated look that Jane just took with a sunny grin. Cho had never been as thankful to pull up to a crime scene as he was that minute. He started to feel a little sorry for Rigsby. It was definitely uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of Patrick Jane's romantic advice. Cho jumped out of the squad car to escape his well-meaning tormentor.

"Ok, we are here," Cho said unnecessarily. "What now?"

Jane still looked amused at his CBI escort, but wandered off to the tractor again. Cho followed, and waited with only a trace of impatience as Jane squatted down and examined the earth around the tractor and shallow grave. Jane rubbed a little of the soil in his fingers, and scanned the area before noticing something and heading off to the right. He paced off a few feet, and leaned down to look at the ground again, before looking back at the tractor. He went back to the farm vehicle yet again, and started to look intently at the snow plow. Jane even climbed into the driver's seat again, before seeing something that apparently satisfied him.

Jumping down, Jane looked around, his fingers and hands in the air as he rather dramatically pointed in several directions, before heading off in his chosen direction. Cho couldn't help but roll his eyes and follow.

"Where are we going?" Cho asked.

"Well, Druckard isn't exactly in the best of shape, now is he?" Jane replied. Cho just gave him a confused look. "Obviously, the lifestyle of a long term alcoholic like Druckard isn't exactly healthy. He is underweight and is poorly nourished, probably from drinking his meals. Which means he isn't physically very strong."

Cho's eyes narrowed in thought. "So how did he move a dead body? Sally Renton isn't that big, but moving dead weight is not easy."

"Exactly," Jane said proudly. "I saw what looks like blood between the tractor steering wheel and the plow head where a small woman might fit if she wasn't concerned with comfort. We know that Druckard buried the body…"

"Wait, we don't know that for sure," Cho said quickly.

"Meh, details," Jane waved away the agents concern, and continued to walk as he examined the ground. He would pause every once in a while to get his bearings, before heading off again. Jane and Cho were walking back along the dirt road to the Renton stables, approaching the highway. Once on the warm concrete, Jane stopped again and gazed around at the woods surrounding the area. He turned and looked back down the road, and realized he couldn't see the house or barn anymore. They were hidden by the trees and the curve of the gravel road.

"Which way is away from town?" Jane asked Cho, who pointed to the right. Jane nodded and headed off in that direction, looking at the trees and scrub brush lining the road. They walked for about 20 minutes, Cho getting more uncomfortable as the heat of the day increased. Jane had taken off his suit coat, and held it at his side in the warm afternoon, and still he strolled down the side of the highway. Suddenly, Jane stopped, and looked intently into the woods. He looked back at Cho, his grin wide and self satisfied.

"Here it is," Jane declared, and eased himself down the shallow embankment. Cho sighed as he approached, and saw what had attracted Jane's attention. The brush was broken, a there appeared to be tire tracks into the thick underbrush. About 15 feet from the shoulder, there was a sharp drop off of about 4 feet hidden by the tall, thick grass, low bushes and a few thin trees before the plant life coalesced back into the thick woodland again. Cho carefully followed the other man, who was standing at the edge of that drop off with a grave look on his face.

There was a small, compact blue car upside down in the grass. The distance from the road, sunken position and the tall grass had hidden it from view. It looked like the driver's side front end had been crushed, and the roof was caved in. The windshield was shattered and lay broken in half on the ground, with traces of what looked like blood and torn clothing. The passenger door was ajar, and the trunk was hanging open, with several brick sized green bales wrapped tightly in plastic scattered on the ground.

Jane looked at Cho. "Where does Druckard live?"

Cho thought a moment. "His farmhouse would be about a mile east of here."

Jane nodded, and started to pull out his cell phone from his vest pocket. "Ok, I think I know what happened here. You call the Sheriff Hollins' people, while I call Lisbon."

About 30 minutes later, Lisbon and Rigsby pulled up to the two men waiting on the side of the road, Sheriff Hollins' and yet another deputy following. Jane and Cho lead them to the embankment, and the foursome stood gazing at the wreck.

"What do you think happened here?" Lisbon asked softly, afraid she already knew. A faint echo of old pain glimmered in her eyes. Jane flicked a glance to her small, dark form.

"Sally Renton probably was driving to Ukiah, just like her husband said," Jane explained sadly. "She stopped just at the highway and picked up her lover, Lehman, and his bales of marijuana, out of sight of her husband. Druckard was driving home drunk and probably crossed the midline. He hit Sally and Lehman head on. Her car has considerably less mass than Druckard's truck, and rolls into the ditch."

Jane climbed back onto the highway as the deputies and local forensic people arrived again, offering a hand to the smaller Lisbon and pulling her up. Cho and Rigsby made it up without a problem, and turned to watch their local support arrive, still listening to Jane's theory.

"I'm betting Sally was thrown from the car and died almost instantly. Lehman, however, was wearing his seatbelt and survived, but probably hit his head. Lehman stumbles away, confused, hurt and knowing he has to get away from here, but not sure why. Probably doesn't even notice Sally dead in the grass in his daze. He eventually gets back to Renton's farm, but doesn't remember the accident. Not uncommon, really, with head trauma. Later, both Lehman and Renton go up on that mountain. Lehman is spiteful during their fight because he is sore, confused and has a splitting headache. Jack Renton hits him, just like he said, and Lehman lands wrong. Dead of a broken neck."

Jane turned and looked down the road, Lisbon at this side. "Druckard, meanwhile, is panicking. He drives back to his house, maybe drinks a little more but can't get forget. He drives back here later that night and finds Sally's body. Now he is really freaking out."

Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby were nodding. "But where does he get the tractor idea?" Rigsby asked.

"And why bury her? Why not just leave her here?" Cho chimed in.

"I don't know," Jane shrugs. "Maybe he drove the tractor back here so no one would notice the truck has been in an accident. He is an alcoholic, probably we will see symptoms of alcohol related dementia once he sobers up. He may not even have a coherent reason for his actions, but for whatever reason, he uses the tractor to transport Sally's body and buries her on her own land. Renton is too distracted by his own crime to notice the strange tractor on the edge of his property, and assumes Sally left him when she doesn't come home. They had undoubtedly been having problems for a while, so it wasn't really a surprise."

Lisbon frowned, but had to agree this sounded the most plausible. Bad luck, poor decisions and now four people with their lives destroyed. Two people lay dead, and two more looking at serious prison time.

"It does explain a lot," Lisbon conceded. "Lehman didn't get into a fight, he was in a car accident. Lehman couldn't remember, and Jack Renton had no idea his wife was dead in a ditch just half a mile from his house. All this carnage wasn't really related, just bad coincidence and worse choices."

"True," Jane agreed as Cho and Risgby went to talk to Hollins, his deputies and forensic staff. "But we figured it out, Lisbon. At least we know the truth. That's something, at least."

Lisbon sighed, a little depressed. She hated these drunk driving cases, and this one had crept out of nowhere to blindside her. She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and looked back to see a sympathetic look in Jane's eyes. He didn't say anything, he didn't have to. She summoned a small smile for him, and he let her go when she moved away.

"Rigsby, Cho," Lisbon called out and her team approached. "Let's go back to the Sheriff's office, get our things. I've got to call Minelli with an update. We can head back to Sacramento in the morning."

Jane dutifully followed his petite boss, holding his suit coat as he hopped into the SUV. Cho and Rigsby talked quickly to Sheriff Hollins. Cho handed him a set of keys, and the two CBI agents got in the backseat.

"What about your precious paperwork?" Jane teased lightly. Lisbon let herself be cheered by his playful tone as she drove away.

"We can do that back at our own office in Sacremento. Have to wait for all the final forensic and autopsy reports to filter back to us, anyway," Lisbon replied. "At least there, I can have a comfortable chair again."

Jane let out a little laugh. If Lisbon was willing to make lame jokes, she would be fine.


	20. Finale

**Chapter 20—Finale**

The details in the aftermath of Jane solving the case were anticlimactic and mundane to say the least. Cho and Rigsby filled out a few preliminary reports, while Lisbon updated the head office and went to talk with Sheriff Hollins. Bob Druckard had sobered up a bit in the few hours it took the CBI team to tidy up. Jane took Lisbon and Hollins into the interrogation room, and had Druckard changing his story every five seconds, each time as believable as the last. Once they left the room, Lisbon and Hollins looked at Jane.

"What is wrong with him?" Lisbon asked. "He sounds almost normal, but clearly he isn't."

"It's called Korsakoff's syndrome," Jane explained as they watched the poor man through the window. "It's basically brain damage from thiamine deficiency from his alcoholism and malnutrition. See how his hands shake? Tremors, memory impairment, black outs are some of the symptoms."

"So why did he keep changing his story?" Hollins asked. "I couldn't tell when he was lying."

"He probably isn't," Jane shrugged. "He basically invents memories to fill in the gaps. It's called confabulation. He will remember whatever you tell him to remember. He might get a little better with treatment, but I doubt he will ever really remember killing Sally Renton or even what happened afterward. Sad, really, but he did it to himself." Jane shook his head, and walked away, his part of the job done.

Lisbon turned, and shook Sheriff Hollins' hand. "Well, Sheriff, it has been good working with you. This case hasn't been at all what I expected. Thank you for all your help."

Hollins laughed a little, and caught himself before he rubbed his shorn scalp with a glance at Jane's back. "It's been good to have you up here, Agent Lisbon. Your team is really good."

"Yes, they are," Lisbon agreed with pride. "We will forward you our reports once we get them completed. Good bye, Sheriff."

"Good bye, Agent Lisbon, and thank you," Hollins replied.

Full dark had fallen by the time the CBI car pulled up to Gemma's farm house. She had left the front light on, as well as a lamp in the living room, but the home was otherwise quiet. Lisbon, Rigsby and Cho went into the kitchen, while saw a soft light coming from Gemma's bedroom door. Curious, Jane approached and softly pushed the door ajar as he went in.

Gemma lay curled up in her window seat. She was wrapped again in her light green sweater and pajama bottoms, her slightly damp hair in a pony tail that curled down her shoulder. Her head leaned against the window, eyes closed with a book forgotten on her lap, breathing deep and even. Jane had not yet been in her bedroom, and looked around in bright curiosity.

He saw the cherry wood furniture, remembering the day she had dragged his wife to pick it out after she bought her house. Gemma's excitement at been infectious. The well built vanity and mirror he had gotten her for her 15th birthday, and was made of the cherry wood Gemma loved even then. The small jade jewelry box had been a gift from his wife on her college graduation. The small quilted throw blanket made by Gemma's mother, Beryl, lay folded on a large chest at the foot of her bed. He looked up, and saw the pictures on the wall. His breath caught when he saw his wedding picture, the one that had hung over the bed he had shared with his wife.

Jane had asked Gemma to strip his house bare in the days before he had been released by Dr. Miller, and she had. She had left only the red smiley face in the master bedroom, also just as he had asked. He had never asked what she did with the things, never wondered what happened to the keepsakes and mementos of their lives. Now he had no doubt that Gemma had saved what was precious to her.

Not really sure what prompted him, he quietly approached the chest and slowly opened it, sinking to his knees. Gemma never stirred.

Lisbon walked by, and saw Jane kneel by the chest. She glanced up and saw the slumbering raven haired woman, and then quietly came to Jane's side. He was looking into the chest, his arm frozen mid-reach. He shuddered and dropped his hand when Lisbon touched his shoulder before looking up at her. His eyes looked so haunted, but there was an odd, bittersweet joy mixed with pain there too.

Lisbon looked into the chest. She saw a well used pink teddy bear, a few framed pictures of Jane on magazine covers. Also several books of piano music, and what looked like a bundle of old letters held together with an aging ribbon, laying on what looked like a folded summer dress and a pair of dainty, little girl ballet shoes. Jane closed the chest lid, and stared off into space for a moment.

"I got rid of the rest," Gemma's soft voice startled Lisbon, but Jane barely moved for a moment, before he looked at her. "But those, I couldn't. I couldn't bear to let those go."

"Why?" Jane asked, his voice a little shaky. Lisbon swallowed, suddenly sure she was invading a very private moment, but not sure how to extricate herself. Gemma saw it, and smiled sadly at Lisbon in tact apology.

"Because they were my family, too," Gemma said quietly. "You can barely handle remembering, but I can't handle forgetting."

"But the letters? Those aren't your memories," Jane said.

Gemma's smile didn't waver. "No, but someday you may want them again. So I will keep them for you."

"And if I don't ever want them?" Jane almost challenged, a thread of anger in his voice.

"Then I will still keep them, Janey," Gemma said resolutely as she stood up, putting her book down. "You gave them to me to burn. Well, I will burn them when I am good and ready, not a moment before. They are mine now."

Gemma approached and helped Jane stand up, looking deep into his eyes. Lisbon finally saw their shared blood, in the curve of their smiles, the waves and curls of their hair, the creases at the corners of their same shaped eyes. One older and fair skinned, the other younger and golden hued.

"You can be angry if you want," Gemma said calmly. "But it won't change anything."

Jane took a deep breath, letting his anger go. This wasn't a fight they need to have. "You are right. They are yours now," he said before enfolding the tall woman in a hug. "I shouldn't have pried."

Lisbon felt herself smile when she heard Gemma snort in disbelief.

"Probably not, but it's not like that ever stopped you," Gemma pointed out. She broke the hug and stood back, looking at both Lisbon and Jane. Gemma found it touching how Lisbon had come to Jane's side, just because she thought he might need someone. The fact that Jane actually let her come gave her hope.

"So, I take it you have solved your crime?" Gemma asked to break the moment. "You will be going in the morning, I expect."

Lisbon blinked, a little startled at Gemma perception, knowing she shouldn't be. "Yes," Lisbon answered, "We will leave first thing."

Gemma nodded, her dark eyes flickering with emotion. "Well, I will be wishing you all a good night, then," she said, and waited for them to leave. Jane reached up, brushed a loose lock behind her ear, and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"Good night, Sparky," he said as he left. Lisbon gave a hesitant smile and left the room, leaving Gemma alone.

A few hours later, when her guests had all long since gone to bed, Gemma woke from her restless sleep. She lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling for a minute before deciding she needed some tea. She was not looking forward to her empty house again, once Jane, Cho and the others left her. And that bothered her more than anything.

Cho left her feeling especially confused. It had been a long time since she had opened herself up like that to someone, and to a man she knew she couldn't stay with. Her life was here, far from the city that Cho called home. She padded into her kitchen, quietly avoiding Jane as he slept on the couch. She paused a moment to look at his sleeping form. He looked almost at peace asleep, and then she slipped into the kitchen. She softly closed the usually open door to the kitchen, and turned on the stove light only to make her tea the semi-dark.

The sound of the door squeaking open made her turn. Expecting Jane, she smiled in surprise to see Cho walk through. He wasn't wearing his shirt, only a pair of long bottoms, and she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on his well-sculpted form. She let Cho see her appreciation, and smiled a little more at his unconscious puffing up. Nothing like a woman giving a man the eye to make him proud, she thought.

"Want some tea?" Gemma asked in the quiet. Cho nodded, and Gemma went to the counter to pull down a cup. She felt Cho come up behind her, his body heat pressing against her back. She leaned back into him as his hand found her hip and he spoke near her ear. They barely knew each other, yet their bodies fit together as if they had done this for a lifetime, easy and without embarrassment.

"We have to leave in the morning," Cho's soft breath on her neck made her shiver.

"I know," Gemma whispered, and turned to face him. She let her hands trail up his side and let him kiss her again, delighting in his languorous touch, and felt her body press into him. "It's only a few hours until the morning," Gemma said in hushed tones, with a wicked smile.

Cho let his own smile turn a little naughty, and caressed her lower back as he pulled her close. "You sure? Because we might not ever see each other again."

Gemma gave a low, throaty laugh, and wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through the short silken threads of his black hair. "You aren't getting rid of me that easy, Kimball Cho. There are reasons for me to come to Sacramento. You are just one more incentive to come sooner rather than later."

She impishly kissed his nose and broke away, pausing to look over her shoulder at him before she headed to her bedroom, tea forgotten on the table. Cho smiled, and trailed after her, careful to stay cat quiet as he passed the slumbering Jane on the couch.

After they had passed, Jane opened his eyes and looked down the empty hall, grinning into the dark. It looked like Gemma and Cho had found a new, or very old, cure for insomnia together, and he didn't think midnight tea had anything to do with it.

Interesting, Patrick Jane thought to himself with a silent laugh, before settling back down into dreamless sleep.

Very interesting indeed.

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Fin.

**_Author's Note: Yes, this is actually the end. I think there are more stories to be had, but this one has ended, and in a good place I think. I'm very proud of this one, and thank you for letting me share it with you :)_**


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